


Compassion

by homeboundrunnerfive



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: F/M, Female Runner Five, Gen, Mild Language, Spoilers for Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 01:29:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14557902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homeboundrunnerfive/pseuds/homeboundrunnerfive
Summary: ”I think…” Five pauses, once again not finding the proper words to express what she actually wants to say. ”I think I’m happy it still makes me sad.”Sam looks a little unsure, and takes his time responding. ”I...I don’t know if I get you, Five.”-Set shortly after S2M30 "Panic", including spoilers for side missions up to S2S10 "Zombies, Climb!"Beta was the very lovely Bubosi, thank you so much for your help and wonderful feedback!





	Compassion

 

  

While Runner Five had certainly been in worse situations, this one was turning out to be quite an annoyance. A neighbouring settlement had fallen about two weeks ago and, according to intel, they had become more of a militia near the end. An incompetent one at that, Janine had remarked, before leaving detailed instructions with Sam about which items from their supposed weapons inventory were of highest priority to cannibalise. To his credit, Sam had said nothing of her rather callous remark and monotonously read off different articles of weaponry for Five to keep an eye out for, but by now that silence spoke volumes to her just as precisely as words would have. Five, like always, had held her tongue for a later time when her opinions were asked for. 

It should have taken a few hours at most, supposing a casual pace, with the added bonus of a possible pick-up at the end should her scouting of the cache prove more valuable than reports indicated. But in a little under an hour away from Abel one of the straps of her backpack ripped, forcing her to fix the remaining one across her chest, which made for poor weight distribution and awkward running, something that Sam was quick to point out in a playful manner. It was unfortunate when any equipment broke of course, but it was irritating to realise that her backpack would not be quite as adequate even if it was stitched or taped back together as Five had grown rather attached to it. It was an efficient backpack. Sam telling her that she looked like a ’ _superbadass but kinda turned around Baby Bjorn-mom_ ’ eased the sting a tiny bit. She said nothing but accepted the small attempt at consolation nonetheless.

Another hour into the run Five ran into what she suspected were former inhabitants of the settlement, the third of which had managed to force her into taking an unpleasant dive down a slope to avoid it before she could lop off its head with her axe. The axe that she could have been wielding a lot more efficiently if her centre of gravity wasn't constantly being shifted by the swinging backpack.

Mostly unharmed, but significantly more annoyed than before, she pulls a few dead leaves out of her hair and adjusts her headset. Her side was already growing sore, in the very same place she had banged herself up pretty badly a few weeks ago. Sam’s voice mingles with static in her ear. 

” _Ah, man, come on, your head cam really took a beating there. I don’t know if I can — I’ll just see if I can —_ ” Sam pauses and she can hear rustling in the background over his periodic muttered curses as whatever means he was taking to clean up the video feed seemed to fail. ” _Okay so, yeah, no, I can’t do anything from here, and we both know how useless you are with technology. Damn it, I can barely see anything! Maybe you could… I don’t know, tap it?_ ”

She made pointed, forceful knocks against the head cam to express her dismay at his jab and only stops when he sighed exaggeratedly into the microphone, declaring it a waste of time.

” _All this glitching might give me a seizure, you know, couldn’t you have been more considerate of me when you were dive bombing down that hill and breaking all your equipment?_ ” Sam grumbles weakly, like he was turned away from the mic.

Five couldn’t really muster any empathy for his plight, given that she was still feeling slightly sour about the backpack and considering that a larger inconvenience than one flickering camera feed among several. Reorienting herself, she set off again, more than ready to reach her destination to have at least something to show for her troubles.

” _I’ll still have you on camera for another kilometre or two, so you just concentrate on running, Five. Or whatever you call that thing you’re doing._ ” Sam follows up with a more upbeat tone, and then coughs awkwardly, perhaps sensing his teasing banter was not well received at the moment.

The wind picked up quite a bit before she reached the settlement, and she was grateful to find no signs of walking dead ambulating about. She did still pull out her axe, wanting to avoid any more close calls as the run had so far been less than smooth. While the fencing looked to have been quite admirable before being ravaged by several dozen zombies, the interior of the settlement was quite sparse. She could see two small buildings that respectively seemed to have served as a dormitory and a kitchen, a poorly concealed cellar door by a few wooden sheds, an empty pen and a small garden patch, all arranged around a weatherworn barn at the centre of the settlement.

” _I can just about see you now, but I won’t anymore when you get behind the fences and we don’t know much about the layout his place or if there are any zoms still inside any of the buildings, and they don’t seem like well-equipped enough to have any security cams for me to hack into, obviously, since, you know… Anyway, be careful, yeah?_ ” Sam says before hastily adding, ” _And if you find any light tech that’s not bolted down, grab it. Janine’s looking for parts to fix a lot of broken stuff, and something about the generator needing back-up parts, I dunno, she never explains things to me. Oh! And also —_ ”

She managed to search through the sheds before Sam got to the end of his increasingly unfeasible wish list, turning up nothing more than a couple of batteries. Several pieces of slightly banged up cookware could be salvaged from the kitchens if there were no weapons or ammo found taking precedence, so she left them for later. Regrettably, she couldn’t spot any perishables. The kitchen looked surprisingly torn up, with small specks and pieces of food waste scattered across the floor and most of the cupboards were broken in some way. Five clears her throat and tries to breathe through her mouth as the smell of decay permeates the air, more so than the mess in the kitchen could account for. Peeking cautiously into the dormitory, she confirms her suspicions about the source of the foul odour. Blood and rotting limbs were strewn over the room, most sporting very obvious bite marks. She comes to a sharp stop in front of the entrance at the gruesome sight before catching herself, resuming her search a touch more quickly than earlier.

Sam starts up several times before deciding on what to say, sounding concerned. ” _Oh, is it — is it bad in there? Anyone… anything moving?_ ”

”No,” she answers shortly, annoyed at herself for visibly reacting at all, and a little annoyed that Sam had picked up on her hesitation.

It was a more savage scene than usual, though. All body parts were badly chewed up, a few all the way down to the bone. On closer inspection she found some of the bones had bite marks. Taking a deep breath, she disconnected herself from the sight and put it away at the back of her mind. She would mourn them later, when there was no longer a mission to be carried out and the gates had closed behind her back at Abel. However, she couldn’t box up her growing frustration the same way, as each step served as a physical reminder of not only the broken backpack but the soreness in her side.

Nothing of defensive value in the dormitory and the cellar yielded little more than six small handguns, two boxes of damp ammunition and a cricket bat. Irrationally, she felt like she was owed a larger reimbursement for the partial loss of her backpack. She wouldn’t be this hung up on such a small thing had she not been on a solo run, where the presence of a partner in the field that needed her at her absolute best made it easier to put her own inconveniences aside. But she was alone, she had found much less than had been anticipated of her and she was failing to temper her mood at the poor outcome.

” _Okay, so less than we hoped for, but it’s still something, right?_ ” Sam chimed in, breaking into her increasingly sullen train of thought. ” _Maybe Janine had a point about these guys. Or maybe someone got here before us, who knows. Anyway, just check the barn real quick and then head on home. We could see if Jody can help you fix up your pack or something. She’s real good with that stuff, so maybe it won’t be so bad, or like, maybe not as bad as it is now._ ”

Usually, this cheerful and caring outlook was one of the things that Five loved about Sam. Sweet, goofy, always-looking-for-ways-to-help Sam. But right now, it mostly felt like a wheedling parent trying to placate their sulking child who had just broken their own favourite toy. She recognised that this interpretation was more a reflection of her behaviour than Sam's, but somehow it fuelled her bad mood even so. After finding the barn door stuck at a weird angle, she enthusiastically threw herself at it with a large amount of force to alleviate some of her frustrations and managed to get the opening wide enough to squeeze through. She wonders what kind of comments Sam would have in store about her childish behaviour later when she had worked it out of her system. None, if her backpack couldn’t be fixed, she supposed. Sam could unintentionally put his foot in his mouth at the most hilariously inappropriate times, but he was also deceptively tactful in many situations regarding his runners.

He was still talking about something in her headset, now off on a tangent about an apparently outrageous altercation between Janine and Simon in the mess hall, obviously still trying to diffuse her bad mood. Which it didn’t, but a warm feeling sprouted in her belly at the shown kindness. As a general rule of thumb Five believed that nice things didn't make bad situations better, but that it was sure nice if one could have them anyway. It did, however, almost distract her enough to miss the snarling.

” _— and Maxie’s just sitting there, right, doing that judge-y thing with her eyebrows and Simon just —_ ”

”Quiet,” she whispers harshly, eyes sweeping over the darkness while adjusting her grip on the axe.

There’s still a low, rumbling sound, but it lacks the throaty quality of a zombie. After a few moments of Five standing immobile, barely breathing, it fades. She takes one very slow and cautious step backwards towards the broken door, which would make for an inconvenient escape route. The evening sun shining through the gap was hardly enough to provide any light, meaning she would be fighting more or less blind should things come to that.

Sam complies immediately, might even be holding his breath, but once again his silence speaks loudly to Five. She knows he won’t ask selfish questions about what’s happening or demand a status update to calm his nerves, even though he wants to. He hasn’t said outright, at least not directly to her, how small he feels when he can’t help his runners. And _—_ as Five had accidentally overheard Sam telling Maxine in a small voice when he thought there was no one else around to hear it _—_ that it’s easier to remember that the runners are real people, living people, when he can see them.

She feels bad, knows he won’t talk until she does, or she’s back on cams.

”Sorry,” she whispers quietly, taking another cautious step backwards.

If she can get the door open wide enough to get better lighting, a quick search might be worth the possible zombie encounter, but risking her life swinging wildly in the dark seems like a superfluous course of action given the meagre payout of the settlement thus far.

” _Did you hear something?_ ”

She doesn’t reply, tapping the mic twice for yes and takes a third step backwards. Small noises, like the wind moving dry grass across the dirt floor of the barn, her breathing, Sam’s breathing, fabric rubbing against fabric, but no undead moaning, no sounds of movement. Stepping sideways, she slowly starts pushing her back against the edge of the door, unwilling to let go of her two-handed grip on her axe to sidle out unless necessary.

The wooden door creaks loudly. Something large bursts out of the shadows and in an instant she has brought the axe up above her head ready to bring it down hard. Before she can even assess what is attacking, it’s on her. A piercing pain in her lower leg makes her cry out sharply, and then she was violently tugged forward, sending her head bouncing hard against a sturdy shovel lying on the ground. A split second of pain, a ringing in her head, snarling, vision closing in around the edges, and the metallic taste of blood in her mouth.

Five had been knocked unconscious once before day zero. Not by a person, but during a nature walk in the woods a couple of hours outside her hometown. She had been enjoying a rare feeling of uninterrupted joy, high on the clean air and boundless amounts of green trees stretching far above her head, rejuvenated by the sunlight filtering through the canopy. There was no single word to properly describe how the simple solitude and closeness to nature recharged her soul with both peaceful calm and childish energy.

A small misstep had sent her tumbling down a small boulder she had jumped onto and face first into the trunk of a birch tree. Waking up with dirt in her mouth and soft Sigur Ros still playing from the remaining earplug still in her left ear had been both disorienting and unnerving. After checking herself somewhat sluggishly for injuries she noted that the sun hadn’t moved enough for her to have been unconscious for a long period of time and upon inspecting the tree speckled with a small amount of blood, she figured her temple had simply connected rather unfortunately with a small burl. The journey home had been quite solemn. When she had lain on the forest floor, she could conceivably have been the only human for several miles in any direction. There would have been no one to help her, and no one would have come for her there.

She had bought sturdier boots the following week, and told people that the small cuts on her face were from an accident at the gym when they asked. It hadn’t taken long to forget to be cautious in the woods, though. Learning is not compulsory, neither is survival, and all that.

Irregular noises in her ear brings her back to her body.

” _She isn’t answering! I don’t know what else — I can’t —_ ”

It’s dark, her leg is hurting, something is making noise. Sensations feel dulled and trivial.

” _Five, can you hear me? Answer me, please, answer, can you hear me? Five!_ ”

”I can hear you.” She says it low and slow, like molasses, finding no reason to hurry and feeling slightly confused about why her body seems crooked, somehow, and very heavy.

” _Oh my — Five, are you okay? What’s happening?_ ” Sam’s voice sounds frayed, she notes. Most of the time, he sounds more happy. Five should answer.

Closing her eyes, she tries to cobble her mind back together. Scouting mission about three hours away from Abel. It’s dark, she’s inside a barn, something had attacked her, and her leg is injured. She feels bad, but not too bad, and she’s bleeding, but not heavily. She can hear breathing and her heartbeat, can feel the handle of her axe still in the palm of her right hand and wedged uncomfortably between her lower back and the ground is her damaged backpack.

The resulting annoyance at remembering the backpack clears her mind a little tiny bit more.

” — _nner Five, report. If you are in no position to speak, tap twice_.”

That’s Janine. She sounds authoritative, and hurried. It’s a little confusing to hear a different voice in her ear right now.

” _Five. Are there hostiles?_ ”

It’s like a bucket of cold water dumped over her head, every single muscle in her body tensing up. The stab of panic in her stomach is almost as painful as the throbbing in her calf. She’s on her back, there’s something still in the barn with her and she might have been bitten already. Her fingers close tightly around the axe, careful of sharp movements, and lifts her head slowly to scan her immediate surroundings.

A pair of brown eyes gleam in the darkness not far from her position, intently fixated on her. She blinks.

It’s a dog.

Immobile, about a meter away from away from her, and of considerable size. The jaws are broad, with triangular ears set high on a large head. Poor lighting makes it difficult to tell, but the coat is dark, perhaps black, with familiar-looking colour markings around the muzzle, continuing down the neck. On the ground as she is, the dog seems to tower over her, heavily muscled and alert. There’s a leather collar slightly bunching the skin around its neck.

”No zombies,” she says, manoeuvring into a sitting position slowly, pulling herself to lean as best she can against the door. ”A dog. Surprised me.”

” _Oh! Oh, okay, I was just, you didn’t answer and I couldn’t hear any, uh, zombie noises, but you didn’t answer for a really long time and —_ ” Sam cut himself off, exhales deeply and then chuckles. ” _That’s so random man, when was the last time anyone even saw a real dog? Except Bonnie, I mean._ ”

” _Mr Yao!_ ” Janine barks indignantly at Sam, who seems unperturbed by the rebuke.

” _Well I’m sorry but come on, there were like a million dogs in the UK before and it’s like they all vanished into —_ ”

” _Would you be so kind as to let me speak, Mr Yao, since you were the one to hysterically call me in here?_ ” She continues briskly without waiting for an answer, ignoring Sam’s spluttering. ” _So, Runner Five, you didn’t answer your operator because of a dog?_ ”

”How long?” she asks, eyeing the dog with a strange mixture of wariness and relief. While getting bitten by what she believes to be a rottweiler was in no way a pleasant experience, things could be considerably worse. Her leg is injured but not entirely savaged, the animal seems content to watch rather than approach for the moment and, best of all, it’s not a zombie. Given the circumstances, what with the dead walking the earth in active search for human flesh which is something she has plenty of, a dog bite is more of a minor inconvenience among many larger concerns.

” _About five, six minutes or so? Maybe longer?_ ” Sam says, sounding slightly uncertain. ” _But, I mean, you didn’t answer so I thought, you know. It felt like a long time._ ”

”Knocked out,” she replies shortly, trying to rip the sleeve off her shirt without making sudden movements. The bite is beginning to bleed heavily enough that it needs to be wrapped to prevent excessive blood loss. It’ll more than double her travelling time back to Abel as it is.

” _What is the situation?_ ” Five can easily detect the frustration in Janine’s tone. Whether it’s directed at her short-spoken way of communication or Sam's comparable chattiness is difficult to tell, and most likely a combination of both.

”Surprised me, hit my head —”

Oh, right. Of course.

As quickly as it had come, relief once more drains out of her leaving nothing but a sense of strained resignation. The owner of the dog had most likely been a member of this militia. Rottweilers were often used as guard dogs, due to their intimidating size and protective nature. It would not willingly separate from its owner, making it probable that the owner had either died or turned when the settlement fell two weeks ago. Storage cupboards in the kitchen were badly damaged, empty of perishables. Decaying limbs with deep bite marks.

Animals could not be infected, but the infection might still spread.

”It bit me,” she says flatly.

For a moment, there’s only silence and static. ” _Are you badly injured?_ ”

”There were human body parts in the dormitory. Bite broke the skin. Transmission is possible.” It sounds hollow and clinical to her ears.

” _But animals don’t go grey,_ ” Sam blurts out immediately.

There’s a beat as Janine puts the pieces together. ” _Mr Yao,_ ” she begins uncharacteristically softly and judging by the descending volume, she is turning away from the microphone. The apparent pity is deafening as she tries to explain the possible path of infection to Sam without explicitly referring to Five’s grisly conjecture.

Breathing deeply, Five tunes them out and tries to think of what steps to take next. There is no was of knowing whether or not she was already done for, and while she was ready to take the necessary actions should that be the case, it seemed needless to resign herself to death simply because it was a possibility.

Dark would fall in less than four hours, and Five guesses that she wouldn’t even make it halfway back before then. It would be difficult to spot zoms in the dark on long-range cams, so if she were to have an encounter she would have little to no warning beforehand. A shambler wouldn’t overtake her but a sprinter would, and a relatively small number of either would be enough to overwhelm her given her lowered mobility and speed. Symptoms of infection would probably not become noticeable before nightfall either. The best course of action would be to wait out the night in a defensible or inaccessible location and progress from there.

Janine appears to come to the same conclusion. ” _Find shelter and we will assign an operator to take the night shift for you to update periodically on your status_.” There’s an indignant noise which is immediately cut off. _”I understand your feelings about the matter, Mr Yao, but it is simply not efficient nor fair to Runner Five to have a sleep-deprived operator._ ”

” _First of all, I am the only radio operator and my runners never go out without me. Secondly, we don’t even know if she’s… and thirdly, I’m not leaving._ ” Sam says firmly and his volume is raising with each word.

Five gets to her feet, which is more difficult than she’d like, and promptly decides to attempt to get up into the loft of the barn rather than barricade herself inside the dormitory. It seems too macabre and the rottweiler, still eyeing her but holding its position, might actually be an advantage if it continues to be quiet. If the dog has not been loud enough thus far to attract zombies, it could serve as a somewhat functional sentry during the night.

” _I wasn't suggesting that, Mr Yao. I’ll see to it that someone will be here to relieve you when your shift is over,_ ” Janine sighs. ” _If you then would like to stay, your free time is your business, I should think._ ”

Lenience from Janine. Rarely seen, and even less comforting due to the surrounding context. It’s not very strenuous to manoeuvre  the ladder into position and climb up, but it’s too heavy to pull it up into the loft and with an injured leg she would most likely cripple herself further by jumping from this height if she has to make a hasty exit. She’ll have to rely on Sam and her temporary operator to watch the perimeter.

It’s good enough.

” _I will go and ask Dr. Myers’ opinion on this situation. And Runner Five? Do try to stay safe. Unnecessary loss of life is always unfortunate. De Luca out.”_

She doesn’t really know what to say in response, so she says nothing. It’s hard to miss the awkward compliment given how sparse Janine is with them, and it effectively undermines the detached professionalism she seems to be aiming for, but it makes Five feel worse rather than better. When one of the most resourceful and formidable people she knows judges it to be time for sentimentality rather than protocol she figures the outlook is bleak at best.

” _It’s always kind of weird when Janine gets like that, right?_ ” murmurs Sam, echoing her train of thought.

”Yes,” Five replies, grabbing her water bottle out of her pack and drinks deeply. Crazily enough, she is still annoyed about the backpack ripping despite maybe having hours left to live and other concerns to be focusing on. There’s always time for pettiness, apparently.

The headset is quiet, and she imagines Sam struggling to come up with the right words to encourage her in the midst of what could be a very serious situation. Five had found that the easiest way to cope with possible imminent death for reasons beyond your control was to ignore it, and pretend that everything was fine. Some people found that insensitive, but it made perfect sense to her to remind yourself of what good felt like to keep from just giving up. And right now, ’good’ meant a friendly voice in her ear. Knowing she was causing him this stress was making her feel guilty.

It would be impossible to mitigate Sam’s anxiety completely without lies, but a little distraction might cheer him up enough to maintain their usual repartee. Usually it was mostly up to Sam to carry the conversation as Five tended to keep herself short in the field, but she could deliver entertainment from time to time as well.

”The dog is kind of cute,” she says, offering up a less grim topic of discussion for him to work with.

It only slightly works. ” _Yeah._ ” He clears his throat. ” _You might not even be infected._ ”

”I might not,” she agrees.

” _I mean, it could all be fine and then you’ll have spent an entire night in a mildewy old barn for nothing.”_

”It could be.”

” _Even Maxine doesn’t fully know everything about the virus and why animals don’t go grey so for all we know it doesn’t work like that._ ”

”For all we know.”

 _”Oh, come on, Five! You’re just repeating what I’m saying back to me like a parrot!_ ” Sam titters, and the shifting mood eases her heavy heart instantly. ” _I had you pegged for a more original sort, I did._ ”

”That’s your mistake,” she smiles.

Reserving some of the water, she pours it slowly on herself in a mostly symbolic attempt at cleaning the bite, which seems to upset the dog that starts barking loudly when the water drips down onto the floor of the barn. 

 _”Oh my God what in the — what was that?_ ” Sam exclaims loudly.

”It’s the dog.”

 _”Wha —_ _It’s still there?_ ”

”Yes.”

” _Well, it’s rather loud,_ ” he huffs.

”It’s a large dog.”

” _What kind?_ ”

”A rottweiler, I think.”

” _Bloody hell! Aren’t those the really, really angry attack dogs?_ ”

”Not always,” she says, laying down on her back. ”I would have liked to have one. Before.”

Five would cautiously label herself a cat person, but if she would have ever been in a position to have a dog, she would have chosen something like a rottweiler. Selective, intelligent, and loyal to a fault.

The sun sets, and time passes slowly, but less slowly than if she wouldn’t have had the company, she thinks. Sam continues to lean into her fabricated nonchalance, telling stories in her ear while she occasionally responds with affirmative hums.

When he stops short in the middle of a compelling anecdote from his college years, Five knows the easy part of the waiting was over. Someone else would sit in Sam’s chair and break their little bubble. The reality of it all will be too much for him to ignore now, and she will for her part no longer feel comfortable to speak freely, even if she does speak very little.

” _Hey man._ ” She can hear it faintly, and as the new arrival shuffles around the comms shack Five braces herself for a long night.

” _Hey. So… Janine told you…_ ” Sam fades out, probably moving around to find the best way to accommodate two people in such a small space comfortably.

She busies herself with staring at the ceiling above her, thinking of what constellations would be visible. If it wasn't a blatantly unnecessary expenditure of energy she’d be tempted to climb onto the roof and stargaze for the remaining dark hours instead of pretending to get some rest. She desperately did not want to have that final conversation were people were supposed to say everything that they wanted to say in case they never had the chance again. It makes her stomach twist. Not only does it seem insincere, but even if she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that this would be her last night on earth, she’d still be just as quiet as she always was.

There were never any words to quite describe how deeply she felt about the select few that had managed to get underneath her skin since losing every single person she had cared for and loved to the zombie plague. Another slightly less dramatic explanation for her inability to verbally communicate her emotions to others was that she had little practice. She had been guarded since long before the world demanded it in exchange for survival.

” _Hello Runner Five,_ ” a male voice greets her in a low tone, and it takes her a while to place it.

She taps two times in response, figuring Evan could read the situation well enough to not take offence at her silence. They didn’t talk much, but Five felt they had some kind of mutual understanding of one another. He would probably know that some things were not made better by talking about them. Some things never were fully mended.

” _I’ll… I’m still here._ ” Sam says, voice only shaking a little. Like Five would even consider the possibility that he might not be.

She adjusts the backpack under her head. ”I’ll be here too, then.”

She doesn’t sleep, nor does she talk, and neither of them seem to feel like telling her what to do. Sam seems unhappy about the following hours of silence, but she simply cannot make herself open with an audience, especially since she figures that Evan feels compelled to take the night shift because of his more or less official position as Head of Runners. She only feels a little worse each time she can hear the scraping of chairs against the floor of the comms shack, knowing it to be Sam escaping the oppressive tension that must be bearing down on the two of them watching for signs, listening for coughing. But he comes back every time, and Evan doesn’t comment when she can hear the occasional sniffle through the static. There’s nothing to say, really.

Either she will turn, or she won’t. It’s out of her hands.

She tells herself over and over, waiting for dawn.

When rays of sunlight shine through cracks in the walls of the barn, she tentatively stops her inner mantra and lifts her head.

One should be careful about speaking too soon, a lesson she learned at a very young age, and Five had never been much of an optimist, but even she had to admit that things were looking significantly more hopeful than they had a few hours ago. Ten hours since the bite and not a single cough.

It takes a while to sink in. Five thinks of checking under the torn sleeve at the bite but decides not to. Evan declares the area free of zombies and Sam disappears to organises for one of the other runners to meet her, which Five disapproves of. Her disapproval is resolutely ignored by Sam once he sits back down at comms desk to relieve Evan, yawning at her protests.

The dog had been quiet during the night, but stirred when she climbed down from the loft, keeping a fair distance but observing her just as intently. Now that the fear of infection has simmered down, the aversion to further physical injury takes its place. In the morning light she can more clearly assess the canine. Like she had guessed, it is a rottweiler, approximately fifty kilos, which did not bode well for her should it decide to charge again, decorated with the classic light brown markings. There was a name tag glinting in the sunlight hanging off the collar, but Five had no delusions about getting close enough to read it for the time being.

Getting past the dog and out of the barn was an anxious experience for several reasons. Once bitten, twice shy, for one thing, but also that Five liked animals. Prepared as she was and with enough light to aim properly a single fell of her axe to the neck or cranium would be enough to put it down. Yet if felt impossibly cruel to kill a dog that had probably only bit her because of natural causes rather than senseless aggression. As she had stepped into the barn she could have transgressed into the territory it was still loyally guarding. 

Maybe she was anthropomorphising the animal a bit, and if it came down to a choice between her and the dog she would kill it. But she very much did not want to. So the going was slow.

Sam seemed as on edge as she was, but perhaps for different reasons. ” _That thing is a beast!_ ” he breathes out as it follows her out of the building and into view of one of his cameras. ” _I thought fighting dogs were illegal in the UK. Figures the militia would’ve been made up of suspicious characters._ ”

”Rottweilers weren’t illegal. Pitbulls were,” she answers, walking backwards to keep it in sight.

” _What’s the difference?_ ”

”They look different.” Five bites her lip. ”Pitbulls are smaller, I think.”

” _Why would the smaller one be illegal, that makes no sense. And why does it keep following you?_ ” Sam huffs. ” _It took a piece out of you already! This just seems like overkill._ ”

Five silently agrees, but there isn’t much to do about it and after half an hour of walking backwards to keep her guard up her patience runs out. If the dog willingly left the compound to stalk her, she might as well get used to the idea of a companion. It’s wearing at her conscience to constantly have the image of her axe cleaving into something living at the forefront of her mind.

She set down her weapon and pack, watching for signs of aggression. Vaguely remembering a few things about how to behave around rottweilers and their general temperament is somewhat helpful to Five, but without knowing how the dog has been trained and socialised makes it mostly a guessing game.

” _This is a bad idea, Five, I don’t like this at all,_ ” Sam worries in her ear. She’s once again inclined to agree, but if she can determine whether or not she’ll be safe without walking backwards she will be home a lot sooner, and the thought of that is tempting enough.

The dog approaches slowly as she takes a few deep breaths to balance herself out, knowing tense emotions will undoubtedly be picked up on. It sits down expectantly at her feet, ignoring her hand a few inches from its head. Five can’t interpret the situation as well as she’d like, she isn’t even very good at decoding the emotions of her fellow humans at all times, but the rottweiler seems more content and passive now in comparison to the night before. It had slept on and off, keeping a watchful eye, more territorial and wary.

The tag reads ’Maggie’.

”Why are you following me?” she asks quietly, sinking down to her knees.

” _Do you really have to do this? Simon is just under an hour away. Can’t you at least try to maintain the relative peace until then?_ ” Sam coaxes to no avail.

”Are you lonely?” she continues in a steady tone.

Five knows it doesn’t understand, but it seems like one should speak nicely if one’s trying to make friends.

” _You know this isn’t safe, Five. It’s a miracle you haven’t seen any zoms yet and if you do I’d like for you to have some backup._ ” Sam says, before realising his pleading has no impact and changes tactics. ” _You’ll give me grey hairs worrying here, man.”_

”I’m sorry,” she says, slightly chastised, and picks up her things. Although she isn’t looking anymore, she believes she can hear the dog trailing behind her. Sam is quiet, which probably means she is right.

If circumstances were different, she’d be grateful for the unusual lack of zombies in her path. But the relative calm has her circling back to sulking about the damaged backpack in addition to her frustration about the inability to move faster than a brisk walk. Sam, however, is only growing more cheerfully boisterous with each kilometre she puts under her belt undisturbed by the walking dead, either not noticing or purposefully ignoring that she is moving a lot more slowly than a smaller wound would account for. It seems unkind to remind him of the possible severity of her injury, if he does worry as much as he says.

” _If I believed in that kind of stuff, I’d say karma is looking out for you right now!_ ” he says as Five crests the hill she tumbled down yesterday. ” _That’d be a first, wouldn’t it?_ ”

She makes a point of staring blankly into one of the long-range cams before moving on.

” _Well, I mean, not that you’re cursed, or got bad karma, or uh, anything like that!_ ” Sam hastily amends, before continuing slowly, piecing together this train of thought as he speaks. ” _Or… well, actually, you don’t have the best track record, now that I think about it. You do seem to get into sticky situations more than the average runner._ ”

She shrugs, not sure of whether he can see the minute movement or not. Five knows she more often than not ends up in some kind of trouble no matter where she goes, but that had been true for far longer than the fall of civilisation. Luck was simply one way of describing random reckless actions that didn’t result in lethal outcomes as far as she was concerned.

” _But you’re not really an average runner, either.”_ It’s a touch more serious, and a lot more fond.

 _”_ Everyone is special in their own way, _”_ she says diplomatically after a seemingly very long silence and adjusts her ponytail, unable to formulate a direct response to the obvious shift in atmosphere. Most of her concentration is focused on stopping herself from fidgeting. Obvious displays of affection towards her has the mixed response of discomfort, shame and joy that she has never quite known how to handle appropriately.

She would consider the two of them friends, even though she has never said as much. It’s uncomfortable to be so vulnerable with what one might feel, and usually relies on action to make her feelings known. In fairness, that has worked out less than well so far. Sam occasionally toes the line of this particular status quo, and the sincerity of his vague compliments are piercing. 

” _Right, um, yeah._ ” He clears his throat and switches to a more light-hearted tone. ” _Anyway, d’you reckon the dog will follow you all the way back here?_ ”

”Don’t know.”

” _I’m all for some animal companionship, don’t get me wrong, but this is weird. I don’t get why it keeps following you._ ”

She glances backwards. The dog is trotting a fair distance behind her, sniffing along the ground.

” _Wonder what the Major would say about this. Oh! Maybe she would train the dog to kill zoms! Like, point and blow a dog whistle and it’d just rip the zoms legs off or something like that. That’d be wicked cool. But she already did that thing with the whistle and the zoms, though… And maybe someone else’s angry dog that already bit one of our runners isn’t the safest thing either… We’ve got kids here that are smaller than that thing. And it is still kinda scary-looking…_ ” Sam trails off, having apparently talked himself out of considering becoming a pet owner without her input.

She doesn’t answer as he continues talking, going off on a tangent about how his sister had once punched someone in kindergarten for saying that all Chinese people ate dogs, simply enjoying the company for what it was.

The scenery changes, she moves closer to Abel, and the dog continues to hang around.

Sam switches over to directing Simon, and she is patched in to the conversation. Listening in makes her aware that Simon is not very happy about being the one to meet her, and that Sam in turn is completely unaware of this fact. 

Her leg is starting to ache, and Simon will no doubt be completely insufferable about this whole situation. Ever since the raider invasion Five feels like Simon has been less soft around the edges, seeming to relish every opportunity to dish some sharp comments her way that could be interpreted in both a friendly and a not so friendly way. It doesn’t really get under her skin, because she very much understands that the cause for that aggression is not with her explicitly, but it does becomes grating rather quickly either way.

”Hello there, Runner Five, loving lovely as ever! Thought I’d be graced with your smiling face over an hour ago, don’t tell me a tiny little brush with death has made you all soft now?” Like she predicted, his grin is insufferable.

She gives him a curt nod and continues walking. Nothing she has said so far has seemed to placate his somewhat misguided feelings towards her for the time being, so the old standby will have to do. Time will either do away with his misdirected anger or it won’t.

Hopefully it will. He is vain, inappropriate, mouthy and sometimes a little tactless, but she enjoys his company even so. His snarky comments about this and that are usually just the right combination of intellect, acidity, and morbid comedy to brighten her mood. There’s an opposite effect when he so obviously brandishes his quick wit to hurt her.

”Always so serious, aren’t you. One would think you’d be a little happier to see your old friend and escort for the day, but I’ll take what I can get.” He steps forward and bows exaggeratedly. ”At your service then, my — holy fuck!” Simon jumps backwards the moment he spots the dog, that in turn has started growling. 

” _Simon, I told you there would be a dog with Five,_ ” Sam chuckles, unable to hear the snarling through either of their headsets. ” _I still don’t get why, but it’s there._ ”

”You did tell me that, Sam, you did, thank you, thank you so very much for that, though I would have liked for you to tell me that it’s an enormous fucking creature just casually strolling around without a leash looking meaner than my grandma when she found me sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night,” says Simon, frowning and squinting his eyes, scrutinising the dog suspiciously.

” _I feel like I did tell you that mate, what else does rottweiler mean,_ ” Sam deadpans.

”Yeah, yeah,” Simon grumbles. ”Why’d you take that thing with you anyway? It seems macabre, even for you.”

Five resists the temptation to pinch the bridge of her nose in annoyance and marches past him, willing time to go faster.

”I mean seriously, didn’t this thing bite you? Maybe even give you a case of the grey plague?” Simon catches up to her, apparently having no qualms about turning his back on a growling canine. She figures he feels cocky enough brandishing a bat in his right hand to not be cautious. ”Why not just make the world a little safer for the runners who might pass around here?”

” _Are you seriously talking about killing a dog now?_ ” Sam says incredulously. ” _Have you no heart, man?_ ” 

”Oh, have no fear, my good man, I wouldn’t dream of it.” Simon replies breezily, side-eyeing her. ”I just figured that Five might be more pragmatic about things. Besides, it’s not like people really keep pets anymore. Whoever kept it before obviously didn’t get much out to it in the end.”

She grits her teeth and stays silent.

” _But Runner Seven has Bonnie, so maybe —_ ”

”That’s different!” Simon interrupts. ”They were a package deal when he arrived, and Bonnie is both ’trained and useful’ as I’ve heard our dear leaders say, so that’s not really much of a comparison in my book.”

The dog stops growling and returns to following Five, though it looks to be more focused on Simon than her for the moment. She doesn’t know whether to be relieved or worried by this development. While she is not enjoying Simon’s company at the moment, she’ll like his company even less if he was in any way injured. He becomes a right wanker when he starts pitying himself.

”Nobody’s going to take that thing in and eventually it’s just going to starve or die of exposure. One could argue putting it down is more merciful, you know,” Simons continues, swinging his bat around casually.

”Stop that,” she mutters and grabs a hold of his arm. The smug look on his face and immediate obedience serves as confirmation that he was indeed doing it to get a reaction out of her.

”It’s nice to know you care about my wellbeing, old buddy Runner Five,” he says sweetly, finishing the delivery off with a contemptuous sneer and a hand clasping at his heart. ”The appreciation just warms my soul right up, it does.”

She stops listening to his remarks and ignores him pointedly for the remainder of their torturously slow return to Abel.

When they can spot the gates, she can literally feel the tension melt off of her. Dr. Myers will be able to tell her with a simple blood test whether or not she’s been infected. It’s looking good, but solid proof will make it more so. The weight of uncertainty will be lifted of her shoulders one way or the other.

” _Uh, Five?_ ” Sam’s voice crackles through the static. ” _Janine says the dog can’t come inside, so…_ ”

”Keeping the gates of Abel closed for paranoid safety reasons? That doesn’t sound like something our darling Jenny would say,” Simon quips and makes a surprised face, pressing the palms of his hands to his cheeks.

 _”Very funny, Runner Three. Just… kind of.. I don’t really know how to go about this, I mean, if that dog has been this determined to follow you for several hours, which I still think is crazy by the way, I don’t think it’s going to just stop now, right Five?_ ”

She taps the mic three times for no.

” _Only thing I can think of is lifting the gate just a little and rolling under it, which is kind of awkward just to keep a single dog out but —”_ Simon groans loudly at the suggestion and Sam responds in kind. ” _Well, do you have any better ideas then? Think it might be distracted by a nice game of fetch?_ ”

”Never said I wouldn’t stoop to crawling in the dirt if that’s the only option I’ve been offered, just thought I’d had my share of that for the month,” Simon mutters under his breath, and Five doubts the battered headset picks up on it.

Just a few more moments and this whole ordeal would be over. She’d be confined to a bunk in the hospital where she could sulk over the many inconveniences of the last few hours in relative peace.

It’s a close call, but the dog seems unwilling to dive beneath the closing gates to follow her.

” _I feel kind of bad, look, it’s just sitting out there._ ” Sam says with a hint of pity. ” _All right, Runners, welcome home. I think we can all agree that this was not that great and that we should try not to get bitten by anything ever again. Three, Janine asked that you come see her when you can, and Five, Dr. Myers is waiting for you, so get going you two._ ”

There’s a click and the static disappears.

”Well, not that it wasn’t nice to take a morning stroll through the English countryside with one of our most valued runners, but it seems I have business to attend to. Ta-ta, Five,” Simon says sarcastically and gives her a mock salute before sauntering off, tossing his backpack carelessly against the wall and ripping the headset off his head.

She watches him go for a moment, wondering if she’d be acting this way had their situations been reversed. After propping her pack more carefully next to Simon’s at the drop zone along with her head cam, Five walks to the hospital tent.

”Runner Five!” Dr. Myers says as she steps through the entrance, sounding a little flustered. ”Come sit down. I’ll take a blood sample first so we can rule out infection, but I have to say it’s very hopeful that you haven’t started coughing yet. Come, sit!”

She bustles around as Five takes a seat on one of the hospital cots, pulling her headset down to hang around her neck and looks around. Dr. Myers is obviously in the middle of something, with papers full of writing strewn over every available plain surface and Five feels briefly guilty that she’s taking time from the only doctor in the township who is obviously up to her neck in research.

Dr. Myers hands her a water bottle as she sits down and starts assembling a blood test kit. ”Drink,” she orders. ”You are most likely dehydrated. We’ll have a look at that leg in a moment, but if you managed to walk back without physical assistance or great pain, I’d say that’s looking hopeful as well.”

Five is hyper focused on the needle breaking the skin in the crook of her elbow and as Dr. Myers starts drawing blood Five is staring intently, almost as if she could somehow tell by just the sight of it alone.

”I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Dr. Myers says, already walking away to the other room with larger equipment. Five supposes it’s not appropriate to hang over her shoulder while she examines her blood through a microscope, and tries to count backwards.

The disadvantage of a one track mind is that she can think of nothing else but how much she wants this to be over. Good or bad, she wants to know. Then one can start making plans.

There’s no one else in here, which is probably why Dr. Myers hadn’t bothered pulling the privacy curtain around her cot. Five is a frequent flier and knows the hospital quite well, and the large tent is undoubtedly looking more like a mess than usual. She thinks she can even spot some calculations drawn directly onto the desk closest to her that isn’t covered in papers, files and half-full test tube holders. But thankfully no half-full beakers or stray sharp instruments. Even under extreme stress Dr. Myers wouldn’t be so careless. Though she can see an Erlenmeyer flask filled almost to the brim with cigarette butts.

Five starts counting backwards from a hundred, inhaling and exhaling, smelling faint traces of tobacco, and then starts over again.

”As we hoped, no infection,” Dr. Myers announces after another few minutes when she returns and suddenly Five feels so bone tired that she’s thankful to be sitting down. Exhaustion kept at bay by cold practicality and sheer stubbornness sweeps through her and Five barely acknowledges Dr. Myers cutting the left pant leg off of her. She’ll have be angry about losing a perfectly good pair of tights later. The cool metal of the scissors against her skin feels soothing and the clinical process of cleaning and sterilising the bite is barely a blip on her radar.

”I’d say rest a couple of days and try not to exasperate the injury, but…” Dr. Myers bites her lip and looks off to the side after re-wrapping the bite.

Five can read between the lines as Dr. Myers clears her throat and presses on. Five might have to run on an injured leg if there’s an emergency. Given the state of the world, she can’t really understand why people would feel bad about asking that of any runner. It would be at a personal cost, but for the good of many. Most runners in Abel township would share her sentiment, she thinks. In her case, there aren’t many other options either. Lacking other skills that has come to be beneficial in a post-apocalyptic civilisation, Five is more than happy to do her share of sprinting.

”There’s no nerve damage, fairly superficial and I’ve applied some antibiotic ointment which I’d like for you to continue to reapply for the next couple of days. If we’re lucky, this might not take more than two weeks to close up entirely. Were you up to date with your tetanus shots?”

Five nods. 

”That’s one less concern to worry about, then, and we aren’t equipped enough to do much of anything should you have contracted something more serious, unfortunately.” She cringes a bit as she says it. ”But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, for now I think you should have a nice lie down and take a well-deserved breather, okay?”

”Runner Five!”

Dr. Myers startles a bit at the loud shouting, looking like she’s ready to start a lecture, but her features soften when she sees Sam bounding in. ”Everything in the clear, doc? Fit as a fiddle and all that?”

Dr. Myers covers her mouth with a hand and chuckles. ”As far as I can tell, everything’s fine, Sam. Do we need to give you a check-up as well or did you drink every single available ration of coffee at once?”

When Five looks closer, she can see what Dr. Myers means. His posture is tense, and there are dark circles forming underneath his eyes which hold a certain frenzied quality. The night has taken its toll on him as well.

”Just tired Maxie, but thanks. I just wanted to check in before catching some z’s myself, actually.” Sam assures her and walks over to her cot, in the middle of sitting down before changing his mind, tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie. Dr. Myers pulls the curtain around the cot to give them the polite illusion of privacy before walking off.

”How are you doing?” Sam asks a touch more gently than he had spoken to Dr. Myers.

”Fine. No infection.”

His face cracks up in a blinding smile, clapping his hands together as if he hadn’t heard Dr. Myers say the same thing seconds ago. ”I told you so! Sometimes, good things do happen around here. Occasionally. From time to time.”

Five doesn’t know how to respond to that, though she can feel the corners of her mouth twisting  upwards, most likely imperceptible to anyone that isn’t looking very closely. She settles for giving him a thumbs up.

”Okay, I just wanted to check and… yeah, I’ll let you rest, if I’m about to fall asleep standing up I can’t imagine how tired you must be.” He parts the curtains before spinning back around, snapping his fingers. ”Food! Food is a thing that people need, also. Should I bring you something from the mess hall?”

She shakes her head no.

”Okay. I’ll be by later with something, or someone else, I guess, can’t have you fading away after surviving the night outside Abel for the… what is it, fourth of fifth time? I don’t know, anyway, get some rest. You deserve it.”

He opens and closes his mouth, eyes flickering between her eyes, bandaged leg, and his own feet before disappearing behind the curtain.

Five watches him go.

Showering, eating, reporting in. It’s very important to stick to routine in anxious situations.

Laying down, and she falls asleep in minutes. 

 

* * *

 

Over the course of the following few days, the dog turns out to be a problem. It loiters around Abel Township, occasionally trotting along the perimeter in silence. Owen almost breaks his ankle falling backwards in surprise after the dog had seemingly appeared out of nowhere and barked loudly at him. Evan is reluctant to take Bonnie out on runs because of the possible complications. Overall, runners report having trouble differentiating between the noises the dog makes as it moves through bushes from the noises an approaching zombie would make. Simon just seems to dislike it on principle, making sure to mention this to her whenever they cross paths.

Five spends most of her time shelving and organising things in the hospital to relieve some of the pressure on Dr. Myers, even though she would privately prefer to work in the gardens. It’s difficult not to feel useless and it is worsened by the reminder that there are few things she has to offer this township if she can’t run.

People pop in on her occasionally, for a small chat or a quick update on the Runners schedule. Even Sara stops by as Five’s sorting through different boxes of the only variety of medication that she’s familiar with.

”Hey there, Five,” she says as she strides through the doorway, scanning for Dr. Myers before leaning back against the half-stocked wall of shelves.

Five waves a box of citalopram at her in greeting.

”I imagine you’re feeling a bit cooped up in here,” Sara says, discreetly looking at her legs. The injury is covered by loose fitting pants, but Five imagines Sara can learn a lot by her weight distribution and posture even so. ”I can’t stand feeling locked in, you know. Feel the wind on your skin and the blood pumping in your ears, that’s a better way of relaxing if you ask me.”

 Five shrugs. It feels ungrateful to complain. Out loud.

”I suppose that’s not much of an option at the moment, from where I’m standing. I understand you’ve not been cleared for running yet.”

Shelving a half-empty container of sertraline, Five turns to look at Sara. It’s too difficult to read between the lines without watching her face, which has a teasing lilt to it. ”I imagine you are in sore need of some entertainment, no?”

There’s a fifty-fifty chance than whatever Sara is thinking of is something that Five would not find amusing no matter what physical condition she was in, but cocks her head regardless.

”So, that little friend of ours that you brought back — or maybe not so little if you want to be technical — damn near scared me half to death yesterday trying to shake a couple of zoms, and caused one hell of a ruckus. Oh, don’t you worry Five,” she says casually as Five cringes at her casual mention of a lethal situation. ”It’ll take more than that to get rid of me, I assure you, but it got me thinking, see. The dog is slowly becoming a liability to our runners, and yet no actions have been taken because the obvious solution to the problem seems … let’s call it tasteless.”

Thankfully, there was apparently still room left for moral integrity, Five thinks.

”So I was thinking that I would go and ask our fearless leader how she intends to deal with this situation and watch her squirm trying to talk her way through suggesting how to dispose of man’s best friend without using certain buzzwords, like kill, or put down, or euthanise. Should be a good five minutes of fun. Want to come along?”

Five shakes her head and grabs another pill container. She had trouble finding the fun in watching other people deal with the consequences of her actions while she sat on the sidelines.

Sara tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and pushes off the shelves. ”I didn’t think so, but I thought I’d ask.”

Waiting patiently, Five keeps her eyes on her work, knowing the actual reason for Sara’s visit was yet to come. She can’t read Sara as well as she’d like, but paying her a visit for purely social reasons during a busy day was cause enough for further speculation.

”If you start to feel like you need a bit of that fresh air you can only get outside the gates, you should let me know. A woman has her ways of getting what she needs.”

Five frowns slightly before she has a chance to mask her reaction. It’s a kind offer, runner to runner, but it is against several protocols and safety measures. Any and every way in and out of Abel should be known and surveilled. She looks into Sara’s eyes sparkling with mirth and tries to read her intentions, but comes up blank.

”It’ll be our secret,” says Sara, clapping a hand down on her shoulder before leaving Five to think.

She doesn’t have to think very long. The resulting fallout of getting caught sneaking in or out of Abel far outweighs the relative freedom. Boredom and restlessness will serve as an appropriate punishment for being careless in the field.

When she has sorted all the medication she recognises without bothering Anil for help, it’s almost midday, and she joins a few of her fellow runners in the mess hall. She knows she doesn’t contribute much to the jovial atmosphere at the table, but it’s nice to be a part of the hustle and bustle nonetheless. Jody found a green hank of yarn and two fashion magazines in a convenience store marked as searched on her way back from a recreational run, and is excitedly talking about what to make with it.

Five eats slowly so she has a reason to sit. She has noticed some people sending her odd looks when she sticks around without eating or talking.

”Runner Five?” Jody tilts her head and waves at her. ”What do you think? Beanie or scarf?”

Both would be good. Jody is very skilled at knitting. Five shrugs and gives her a small smile.

”I think Five would look lovely in a beanie, don’t you think so Jody?” says Sara and sends a wry smile her way. ”Though maybe not very serious or proper.”

”No one looks good in a beanie, mate, it’s for stoners.” Owen cuts in between shoving forkfuls of canned beans into his mouth.

It takes Jody a while to process, but when she eventually does she looks outraged. ”Stoners? What — how are beanies for stoners?”

”I mean that only stoners wear beanies.”

”Is — Is this some kind of Australian thing or are you actually this stupid?” Jody hisses, narrowing her eyes.

”Oh, sorry, right, hipsters too. Beanies are for stoners and hipsters. Gotta be inclusive these days.”

”It’s a piece of clothing, Owen, are you for real right now?”

”Yeah, a piece of clothing for stoners and hipsters,” he replies stubbornly, stabbing the air with his fork twice for emphasis.

”What are you — oh my god, what possible reasoning could you have for spewing ignorant garbage other than to hear yourself talk?”

They continue bickering back and forth for several minutes. Sara looks on silently, and Five spears the last piece of potato on her plate with her fork. They exchange glances and both seem to decide it’s better not to get involved in this particular spat. Five was never much of a peacemaker, anyway.

”Hey, Five!” Sam appears out of nowhere, sliding in next to her on the bench with a tray loaded with different assortments of canned food. ”What’s going there?” he asks, peeking very obviously at the two arguing runners.

”Difference of opinion,” she replies.

”I can tell.” He sniffs and picks at the questionable pile of beans on his plate. ”Anyway, I wanted to check in and see how that leg is doing. It feels weird to not see your number on the roster for the week, you know.”

”It’s fine.”

”Yeah, I got that, but you said the same thing yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that, and you catch my drift. Is it getting any better do you think?”

”It’s better.”

Sam sighs exaggeratedly and makes a melodramatic face. ”Is that all I get after staying up all night watching the cams and checking in on you every day? Being a radio operator is such a thankless job. Woe is me and all that junk."

Five gives him a light jab in the shoulder. Sam chortles and then falls silent, slowly putting food in his mouth and staring down into his plate. The silence is thick with something that she can’t quite describe. She is also suddenly quite aware that Sara is watching them intently out of the corner of her eye.

”So, um, the next scheduled run isn’t for another two hours and I thought that —”

”Oh my God, do you even hear yourself? Do you ever think before opening your big dumb mouth?” Jody yells loudly at Owen before storming out of the mess hall, which goes silent at the outburst. 

Owen thankfully stays quiet, but grips his utensils so hard that his knuckles turn white.

”Okay then, maybe a little bonding exercise before we send the two of them out together would be in order,” Sam mutters. ”Can you believe that Maxie still reckons they fancy each other? I’m not even sure I want to know how she still thinks so after that horrible run in the mountains, and it’s a little worrying that she… ah, never mind, anyway, I think she’s still convinced it’s a love-to-hate kind of thing going on between them.”

Five rolls her eyes.

”I know, right? Ridiculous. Though you have to give her credit for the relentless tenacity she puts into her matchmaking schemes, even if it has yet to work a single time. You never know what she might be cooking up on the side of that anti-zombie spray,” he says in a stage whisper, leaning in closer and wiggling his eyebrows.

Their thighs are touching, have been since Sam sat down, but she’s only noticing it now. Sara’s discreet glances are suddenly making Five overwhelmingly uncomfortable.

”Anyway, so, my next scheduled run isn’t for another two hours and —”

”Runner Five, good afternoon.” Evan sits down across from her, having apparently finished eating. ”I would like to speak with you about the dog that followed you back from a weapons run six days ago for a few minutes, if you have the time? Sam, good afternoon to you as well." 

The fact that it is stated like a question is only for courtesy's sake as he is clearly expecting her to make time right now. Sam barely acknowledges Evan’s belated greeting and mutters something inaudible under his breath before starting to inhale his food.

”Janine has asked my opinion of how to deal with the complications of having a stray dog stalking around the township,” he says, then taps his chin thoughtfully. ”I don’t know if she’s asking because she considers it my responsibility to deal with matters related to runners in the field, or if it is because she thinks that I would have expertise in obedience training because of Bonnie. Regardless, I thought it best to come to you for some advice, since you had the chance to observe it closely for the better part of a day.”

Five wonders if this is a direct result of Sara actually taunting to Janine about the dog, which she personally hopes she didn’t do, or just happy coincidence. Either way, she isn’t sure she has much to offer, and tells him so.

”Nonsense. Any information could be useful, Five, nothing is too small,” says Evan and shakes his hand dismissively before launching into what seems like a cognitive interview that Five feels obliged to answer in great detail.

When he says that nothing was too small, he meant it. She has to answer entirely too many questions about its behaviour and movement during the different circumstances, reactions to different kinds of stimuli, what kind of pet supplies she saw at the compound, if it had any type of injuries or disfigurements, and many other things that she cannot figure out the reason for asking about. While she has acquired the runner’s habit of cataloguing details in her surroundings she feels like her observations are all lacking, given that Evan appears less and less pleased the more he hears. When his questions become more abstract and intricate she is reduced to shrugging.

”I can’t say for sure that I can come up with a more pleasant solution that some of the other runners have suggested, but this has been helpful even so.” Evan says and his eyes darts briefly to the left before focusing on her again, getting to his feet. ”Thank you for your time. And I’ll be checking in with you before the camera field test this afternoon, Sam, Cameo said something about her headset glitching I thought you should be aware of.”

Sam looks up and tries to answer through a mouthful of vegetables without spitting half of it out again. ”Okay, yeah, I’ll have a look at it before we send you out.”

There’s a moment of quiet and Five realises most of the people at the Runner’s table has gotten up and left during her conference with Evan, leaving only Sam and Sara, who is very deliberately pushing a piece of carrot back and forth in a straight line on her plate and supporting her head with the palm of her hand. 

”I thought he was about to ask you about the exact length of the dog’s fur in millimetres or the positioning of the sun in the sky when you left it outside the gates. He’s…” Sam hesitates, choosing his words a little more carefully than usual. ”He’s a thorough fellow, that one. Not that I’m complaining, mind you, I just… Sometimes when I’m on comms with him I feel like a teenager trying to order a parent around. No, well, maybe not exactly like that but maybe more like… I’m going to stop before I say more stupid stuff. Evan’s great.”

Five hums in agreement and grabs her tray, making a move to stand. The thorough interview has left her with an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach she’d like to distract herself from. 

”Ah, wait, I was —” Sam says hurriedly, reaching a hand out to stop her tray from leaving the table. ”So I don’t have any, um, my next scheduled run isn’t for another two hours, with Evan and Cameo, you probably got that, because Evan said so and now I also have to check if Cameo’s headset is broken, which is more of Janine’s territory since I almost never know how to fix it if it’s more complicated than adjusting the frequency, and I got chewed out for trying last time with Kytan’s headset. Which I know is fair because I guess I could have wrecked it but I mean, I had nothing but good intentions but Janine still took my jar of Marmite just to spite me. The almost twenty minute long lecture I had to sit through after that made her point very clear, but, um, anyway.”

He trails off, shifting his eyes between hers and his own hand still on the tray centimetres apart before pulling it back quickly as if burnt. It takes Five a moment to decide if it’s endearing or rude. ”I know you can’t run yet and you shouldn’t because you’ll make things worse if you don’t rest. But I feel like we don’t really get to talk much when you’re off the schedule so I was thinking a walk? On the track? It’s almost like running and let’s be real here, only way I’m keeping up with you is if you’re walking.”

Five is only partially paying attention, preoccupied with the presence of the table’s other remaining occupant. Sara is obstinately not looking in their direction and the corners of her mouth are more turned up than not, still moving the carrot back and forth across her plate. It’s irrationally distracting to know that she is listening in.

”I guess it’s not almost like running at all, but still, I —” He chuckles awkwardly. ”So, a walk? For some talking?”

Walking along the track is one of the better places in Abel to talk in what Five would refer to as casual privacy, a fact that she believes Sam is aware of as well. It’s hard not to notice that the more people are present, the less she tends to speak, so the offer is rather perceptive. He must not think she’s not coping very well with mandated days of rest, which isn’t wrong exactly, but not something he should have to trouble himself with.

Sara is still pushing her carrot back and forth.

Nodding once to Sam, Five grabs both of their trays and quickly leaves the table to dispose of them without waiting for him to follow. As she walks through the doorway with Sam closely behind, Sara starts [whistling a tune](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=opmwfRqdGsg) Five can’t quite place.

The track is empty, like it usually is just after midday bell. Five feels slightly more at home here walking along the beaten down dirt, and the sweltering heat of the sun is offset by a cooling breeze. An array of mismatched fitness equipment is neatly arranged in the centre of the training grounds and the very much homemade climbing wall off to the eastern side looks strangely out of place all by itself.

Sam sticks his hands in his hoodie, turning to glance at her. ”So, was the track not a smart move on my part or is it making you feel better?”

She shrugs in mock nonchalance and then smiles furtively.

”I thought as much,” he says smugly, tilting his face towards the sunlight. ”You runners are always so restless, like it’s literally a bother for you to relax and put your feet up. I can’t relate, man. Jacked up adrenaline junkies, all of you.”

Five huffs indignantly and attempts to kick a pebble towards him, narrowly missing his left sneaker as he skips a few feet away laughing softly.

”Hey, the truth hurts. And having established that, how are you holding up, like actually? Being benched and, uh, all of that,” he says, waving vaguely at her leg.

She takes the time to think of a more honest response than ’fine’ and ’better’, which is not more of a lie now than it usually is, but it’s not what he’s asking for. ”I’m not very helpful in the hospital.”

”It hasn’t burned down either, so whatever you’re doing in your mandated time off for recovery —” says Sam, punctuating his words with a pointed look, ” — can’t be making things much worse, either. Besides, Maxie’s always grateful for any help and you can’t have missed how much overtime she’s been pulling lately.”

”I noticed.” Five kicks another small pebble towards him, levelling a more serious look his way. ”Someone might need to talk to her about that.”

”Believe me, people have,” Sam sighs. ”But she’s the only one who can work on the spray and also, she is seriously stubborn, like, even more than I thought. Janine gave her one of those ’this is not an order but you’re living on my bloody land and you will bloody well listen to me’ orders about taking the night off and she actually snuck back into the hospital like some teenager.”

”I heard.”

”Yeah. Speaking of, has she given you an estimate of how long until you can get back to risking your life running from zombies and all that fun stuff you like to do?”

”Another week, at best.”

”That’s good! Fast runner, fast recovery, seems only logical,” Sam says and winks at her. ”Sara will be grateful to have you back in the field at least, I think she’s getting fed up with runs with Simon, and she always carries a handgun in the field. Seems like it should make him think twice before opening his mouth but then again, I think he’s never had an opinion he didn’t say out loud.”

She disagrees with that statement very strongly. There is a lot to Simon’s thought process that never seems to see the light of day, which might be for the best at times.

”Don’t let Sara shoot him,” Five says.

”I’ll try, but he damn near broke his own neck falling over some bushes trying to get away from the dog on his run yesterday, so the results may be the same either way,” Sam jokes and Five can feel the bubble of calm bursting, unable to stop herself from cringing.

She’s good for absolutely nothing right now, people are still dealing with the aftermath of a situation she shouldn’t have gotten herself into in the first place and she’s spending her time feeling sorry for herself rather than contributing to a solution.

”I’m just kidding, it wasn’t like that, hyperbole, um,” Sam backtracks hastily, putting his palms up in a placating gesture. ”He was just surprised and tripped, no harm done, except a bruised ego maybe, but that’s good for him once in a while, so, um, definitely no harm done.”

”Mm.”

She looks down at her feet, rationalising that there is really nothing productive about feeling guilty but doing it all the same. Beside her, she knows without looking that Sam is scrunching up his nose the way he does sometimes when he feels like he’s put his foot in his mouth. Which, in turn, is making her feel more guilty about making her emotional inconsistencies someone else’s problem.

”What I meant was that… no, okay, so,” he sighs and tries to make eye contact, coming to a stop in front of her, careful not to touch. ”Five, you do know that it’s not actually your fault the dog keeps hanging around, right? It’s a domesticated animal that probably likes to be around people. Like, alive people. And it hasn’t hurt anyone. Except you. Which seems like the worst thing to come from this, and you going grey was a very real option only six days ago, so by comparison… I guess I think you shouldn’t think about it that way. If that is what you’re doing." 

”I am,” she confesses.

Even saying that much feels unfair.

”I suppose it’s not very helpful to say that you shouldn’t. I don’t think you have any reason to.”

”There’s always reason to feel bad,” she replies, trying for humour to defuse the tension. Sam winces and then quickly puts on a smile to cover it up, rubbing his neck with one hand and continues walking.

”We’re living in the zombie apocalypse, can’t really argue with you there,” he concedes, doing a poor job of covering up his dejection.

She could punch herself in the face.

Five knows she can lean on Sam at times when she’s been laid low, not because he needs her to be useful in the field, but because he’s a genuinely empathic and kind person. The offer has been made very clear and he’s always at the ready, seeming to know instinctively when something isn’t quite right with his runners. To Five, it is a dangerous game. Not that Sam isn’t strong, she knows the burden of responsibility that comes with being the operator and he’s probably seen more horrible things than she would like him to have seen, but through it all he is still an optimistic and joyful person at his core. She worries that leaning on him too much will burden him to the point of breaking.

She will have to do better.

Five catches up, bumping her shoulder into him. ”Sorry.”

”You’re not wrong, technically. I just don’t like that you think of it that way.”

”Blessed is he who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed,” she quotes, looking up at the sky. ”Alexander Pope.”

”Oft hope is born when all is forlorn,” replies Sam, tugging on a stray thread on his sleeve.

Her step falters for a moment before she picks it up again.

A corny quote, that rhymes, from Lord of the Rings. He would say something like that. Sam is always, unapologetically, who he is. Marmite, and Darkness and Demons, and optimism, and Curly Wurlies, and laughing at zombie nuns, and ice cream rolls, and building bad pillow forts out of blankets, and cosplaying Aquaman, and hogging the video games, and kindness, and always trying his very best.

Before the apocalypse, she had never known anyone quite like him.

It’s not enough to change how she feels about the world, or how she feels about herself. But walking side by side, she’s reminded once again that it is better to try.

By the time she stops to drop him off at the comms shack she feels inspired enough to try something of her own.

”Catch you later?” asks Sam as he stands in the doorway. ”Or stop by, if you want. Evan and Cameo are doing quality checks of the long-range cams in the closest northeast quadrant. That’s always funny to watch.”

Five thinks back to the last time she performed a quality check, asking whether or not Sam could identify what type of ridiculous dance move Simon was doing from various distances. It could be fun.

”It is,” she says.

He smiles and looks down at his feet. ”Okay. See you.”

Five gives him a small wave as he disappears into the comms shack. Turning on her heel, she walks towards the farmhouse with decisive steps.

It barely makes her calf ache at all. 

She can’t run, she’s barely useful in the hospital and she doesn’t want to take kitchen duty away from Khwargo, doubting she could do a better job anyway, and work in the gardens is popular enough. But maybe she can be of some small help if she can persuade Janine to sign off on temporarily putting her back in the Runners schedule.

It’s not a very well thought out idea, but requires no one but Five to carry out, which is its main strong point. She ducks her head down as she crosses the sparsely populated Quad and slinks into the farmhouse, closing the door quietly behind her. The couches are worn down, the furniture is old but cared for, and there are even two pieces of art hanging in the main room. None of the lamps are turned on, naturally, leaving the light shining through the windows the only source of light. Sounds from outside become more dull and she stands in one of the few places in Abel where one could almost forget that the world has become irreversibly different from what it was before.

She avoids being here when she can. It brings about complicated feelings.

Five walks up the stairs and down the corridor to Janine’s office. Odds are she’s there, because she has been spending more time in her office than Five thinks Janine would usually like. Bandits breaching Abel’s perimeter. Being beaten senseless by said bandits. Stolen research papers. The first breakthrough in combating the walking dead coming at the cost of killing children. The past month has brought one setback after another, and Five imagines that Janine is stretching herself beyond the call of duty to prevent anything else from happening under her watch.

When Five knocks on the door there’s the sound of a drawer being closed and a distinct ’click’, before she is called in. 

”Runner Five. I hear your recovery is moving along well.” says Janine, sitting with several maps in front of her spread out over the desk.

Five clasps her hands behind her back and rights her posture. Speaking to Janine in any official capacity triggers an instinctive decision in Five to pick her words carefully, knowing Janine is skilled in extracting more information that one intended to offer. Her efforts usually ends up in a stilted and slightly inferior mimicking of Janine’s formal speech pattern more than anything else. ”I understand Runner Seven has been assigned to handle the issue of the dog from the Manend militia compound.”

”That is correct, and Mr. Deaubl was looking to speak to you in regard to that.”

”He did. I believe it would be beneficial if I were to handle it instead." 

Janine looks up from circling an area on one of her maps and tilts her head. ”Would you like to elaborate?”

”Runner Seven will be better equipped to examine whether or not it could be of any use, and I would defer to his judgement, but I believe I could retrieve the animal at a comparatively reduced risk. It seemed to become acclimated to me to some degree during my return to Abel.”    

Janine seems to mull it over. ”I did considered the possibility, given that it followed you for several hours, but it was suggested to me that asking you to recover the animal would be… insensitive, given the circumstances.”

”I would just need to be informed when it is spotted within a kilometre of the perimeter, and that I am then kept updated on hostile movements to reduce the likelihood of unnecessary confrontation.”

”Certainly. But the deciding factor would not be not your competence in the field.” Janine folds her hands on the desk and levels Five with a stern look. ”Let me be frank. I will not have runners injured or incapacitated out of misplaced morality. Mr. Deaubl understands that the safety of our runners precede other concerns. If you can, without risk to yourself and others, recover the animal, do. If you cannot, measures must be taken.”

The guilt is chilling, but she has steeled her resolve. Those measures will be taken regardless of which runner fails to bring the dog in and Five does not want to unload that burden on someone else. Additionally, she truly believes her chances are slightly better than Evan’s.

But, should things come to it, Five thinks it’s only fair that she suffer the consequences of her own mistakes.

”I understand,” she says, hoping that she hasn’t noticeably paled at the thought of killing something that without a doubt is alive.

Janine purses her lips. ”And are you confident you will be able to do this without further extending your recovery time?" 

Five nods, and it seems to satisfy Janine.

”Then please go and collect your headset from Mr. Yao. Inform him of the situation. I will speak with Mr. Deaubl, which I suggest you do as well.”

Five unclasps her hands, which have turned white because of her very tight grip, and turns to leave.

”To be clear, Runner Five,” says Janine in a tone of voice that leaves no room for leniency, making Five spin on the spot. ”You are not to be put back onto the Runner’s schedule until Dr. Myers has cleared you for field duty. You are not to leave Abel for any other reason than this assignment, you are only to leave with your operator’s express consent, and this consent hinges on assurances that it will not interfere with ongoing missions or cause safety complications. Lastly, you will not bring the animal into Abel without the supervision of Mr. Deaubl or myself. Do you understand and accept the parameters of this assignment?”

When she is no longer holding her hands behind her back, Five is dismayed to realise that they aren’t completely steady. Janine’s disciplinary tone cuts through the air, vibrates through her body and bores into her bones. It’s been a long time since Mullins, but the terror is never far away.

Five nods once more and forces herself not to avert her gaze.

”Very well. Thank you for volunteering yourself, Runner Five.” Janine says and grants her a perfunctory smile before returning her attention to the maps. At a quick glance, Five can see that Janine is studying the area around Bert Airfield.

Five looks away from the maps, blinking rapidly once her back is turned and strides out in what she intends to be a confident manner, closing the door behind her. Her breath is becoming uneven and the tips of her fingers are starting to go numb. While walking down the stairs it feels like her torso is collapsing in on itself.

Five sits down behind an armchair situated in the corner and puts her head between her knees. It’s so cold she starts shaking.

She’ll go to the comms shack in a moment.  

 

* * *

 

Another four days pass before the dog is sighted in accordance to the terms Janine had put forth, which Five felt inclined to follow for several reasons. Her leg has healed up much better than expected, and according to Dr. Myers it might only be a few more days before she could officially recommend Five to be reinstated. Any pain she felt while walking or jogging — as she had tried under the cover of darkness against doctor’s orders — was negligible. 

The dog was loitering just over half a kilometre south of Abel, and it hadn’t taken Five more than a couple of minutes to retrieve a leash and sign out her axe, making a conscious effort to not think too much about using it, keeping her focus in the present and physical world. Strapping a harness around her torso for the axe to rest comfortingly on her back. Securing her shoelaces with tight knots, first the right and then the left. Looping the leash and securing it to the front of her harness with tattered velcro tape. Pulling her hair into a ponytail. Putting one foot in front of the other. Rhythmically tensing and relaxing her feet, her thighs, her hands, her shoulders.

” _Raise the gates!_ ”

The heavy groan of machinery. A sudden gust of wind and the sun in her eyes. Earth beneath her feet that Five logically knows does not feel different to walk on than the earth inside the walls of Abel.

As she walks out of the gates, her feelings are less contradictory. She would carry out her orders for the good of the people. What had caused the need for this mission was in the past. How it would come to play out would be in the future. All there was to do at this moment was to move from point A to point B in a timely manner.

” _Alright, Runner Five, how you feeling?_ ” Sam says, voice coming through a little patchy. ” _I’m half-expecting you to start doing jumping jacks in celebration. First trip outside the walls in almost two weeks!”_

”Where to?” she replies, adjusting the transmitter to fit more comfortably against her cheekbone

” _Oh, um, south about half a kilometre, so right now about your two o’clock, and the route is completely clear. Sara and Simon pulled most of the shamblers away during their very flashy departure an hour ago. By the way, I’m getting, like, seriously concerned about Sara running with Simon. I think he cartwheeled in front of one zombie just to annoy her._ ”

Five feels the ghost of a smile on her face before turning south. It’s difficult to keep herself from speeding up, now that the pain she had felt previously whenever she attempted to jog is gone, and memories of sprinting until she can’t remember anything but breathing and the voice in her ears are almost intoxicating.

The way the shaft of her axe bounces against her shoulder blades when she quickens her stride grounds her in the present. She hasn’t explicitly told Sam what she might have to do if she can’t coax the dog into some semblance of obedience. Sam is by no means stupid, but sometimes he seems to overlook negatives until there is no possible option but to deal with them and she doesn’t want to be the one to remind him of the grim reality of living in the aftermath of the apocalypse. There’s no reason to force detachment if there is still joy to be found.

Five can also admit to herself that another reason was that she couldn’t find the wherewithal to say the words to his face. She doesn’t want Sam to think that she’s grown hard and jaded, even though she believes she will sooner or later. At the same time, she desperately needs him to believe she is invulnerable to the horror beyond the walls of Abel. It’s a stalemate between grossly contradictory emotions that Five time and time again deconstructs and puts away for the day when she believes there is a future for her in which she can be soft.

” _If you swing by those bushes to your left you should be able to see a small path running parallel to the tree line about three or four yards in, which will divert in another minute,_ ” Sam directs, and Five can easily spot the break in the foliage and the trail behind it. ” _And after about two hundred metres there’s some shrubbery and I think the dog is… taking a nap in the shade? Seriously, I wish you could see this, or wait, right, you will soon, but it’s something weirdly cute about it on screen. It’s still kinda scary but I mean, it’s a sleeping dog. You gotta appreciate this kind of footage now that Youtube’s no longer an option.”_

”Sam,” Five says and slows her walk slightly.

” _Yes?_ ”

”If I ask you to, will you turn off your monitors?”

She can turn both her headset and head cam on and off by herself.

” _What? Of course I can’t,_ ” says Sam after a beat, sounding perplexed. ” _I never turn them off._ ”

”Only for a moment. Only if I ask.”

For what feels like minutes, all she can hear is Sam breathing into the microphone. She can’t blame him for not knowing what to say. It’s suspicious at best, and dangerous at worst. Maybe what shocks Sam the most is that she is asking him to give up the one tool he has at his disposal to keep runners safe. They both know that he carries the burden of every dead runner on his shoulders, tasks himself with remembering them no matter the cost. It’s cruel to ask for him to be so vulnerable.

But there’s less than hundred metres left until she arrives at point B.

Five hopes it won’t come to the worst. But she can’t have him see it if it does.

” _I — you know I can’t do that, Five,_ ” he mumbles, barely audible.

She could say please and force his hand, wield the word like a weapon. Since she arrived in Abel she can count the number of times she has said it on one hand. It’s manipulative, to play on his empathy. Sam would probably turn them off, too, not just say that he did. He’s just that kind of person. A genuinely good person, who deserves an explanation to why she would ask.

Five doesn’t want to explain. Doesn’t want to expose just how capable of she is of doing horrible things. Explaining why she wants the monitors off would be what a good person would do, and Sam could at least worry about one less thing. She is capable of being a good person still, Five thinks, tries to stay as very human as she can. But there is a part of her that has grown self-preserving and fearful. And that part of her does not want Sam to see her killing a dog. Desperately wants Sam to believe that she’s a better person than she actually is.  

She drops the issue for now, hoping she’ll be able to assess the situation with enough time to spare for bargaining with Sam about the cameras.

Her trainers might as well be filled with lead for all the time it takes her to reach point B. The dog is relaxing in the shade of some bushes, but it’s aware of her presence, alert brown eyes following her movements. 

Breathing in shakily, then speaking confidently. ”Hello Maggie.”

The canine tilts its head slightly. Five remembers that rottweilers are rather intelligent dogs, which can be a problem during obedience training because they grow bored rather quickly, but she can’t remember if they are capable of actually differentiating their name among other words. Many times dog owners insist that dogs understand certain commands when in reality they are picking up on various other cues, like a certain vocal intonation or a type of body language.

Five acts according to Evan’s instructions. She positions herself with her side against the dog in a non-threatening posture and avoids eye-contact, but keeps the animal within her sights to detect signs of aggression. She is to let the dog approach in its own time, but Five is under no illusion that she has the luxury of waiting for the dog to acclimate to her presence for hours. The moment a zombie is spotted in the vicinity, time is up and she’ll have to take other measures.

Her headset is quiet, save for the even breaths.

Five can hear leaves rustling, and out of the corner of her eye she can see the dog moving closer, slow and deliberate. Minutes pass and she shifts her attention to keeping her own breath steady, trying to keep herself from appearing stressed or anxious. The presence of the animal can be felt rather than seen. It stops and sniffs at her, making a circle around her legs and Five startles slightly as she can feel a wet nose inspecting her right hand.

Don’t touch the head, don’t lean in too close, deliberate and controlled movements, avoid prolonged eye contact, no yelling, do not tug on the leash, establish dominance if possible, avoid confrontation if not, do not brandish weapon unless explicitly threatened, aim for the neck to kill instantly.

” _If it wasn’t so bloody big it’d be cute,_ ” Sam pipes in, strangely out of place in the context. ” _And the, uh, biting thing I could do without, too, I guess, but you —_ ”

Five takes a deep breath and disconnects herself from her body. It’s a difficult state on mind to explain, and Five has never even attempted to do so when the occasional question is posed. If she could project the visual image of harsh, immovable lines surrounded by a multitude of fragile and shifting wisps of colour as an explanation, it would be the best she has to offer. Some people, like Sara or even Major De Santa, seem to know it instinctively at a moment’s glance, while other people, like Jody or Sam, mistake it for something akin to absolute concentration. The tension is palpable when she slips the leash around the dog’s neck, awaiting a reaction. Five knows that her conscious mind cannot be trusted to be present if she must do something so vile in front of someone as soft as her operator. It might break, and she is still needed to be somewhat whole.

Walking back through the woods feels picturesque, and the dog follows closely by her side. Before day zero, this is what Five would have imagined a particularly carefree Sunday afternoon might have looked like had her life turned out the way she would have wanted it. The retrieval goes more smoothly than Five could have hoped for, and she is still in a daze as she walks through the gates and leaves the dog in the quarantine zone flanked by Janine and Evan. Only when Evan claps a hand down on her shoulder does she return fully to herself, and registers the smile he sends her way.

Sam has without a doubt been keeping a running commentary during her journey back, but Five can’t recall any of it properly, only remembering the anticipatory dread now that it is lessening. 

”Job well done, Runner Five. I’ll take it from here, and assist Dr Myers with the examination.” He squeezes her shoulder briefly before letting it fall to his side, giving her a warm look. ”Thank you.”

”Very well, Mr. Deaubl,” Janine says distractedly, side-eying the dog behind the chainlink fence that looks to be staring right back at her. Five pulls the headset down to rest around her neck and watches Evan’s back as he walks away. ”In the meantime, I will perform your bite check in Dr. Myers place. Please come with me.”

Following obediently as Janine briskly walks to the sectioned off area of the hospital, it occurs to Five that she wanted Evan to know that the dog is called Maggie. Even if the dog doesn’t understand, it feels more human to call it by a name.

Bite check hardly seems necessary, given that she has had no contact whatsoever with the walking dead under Sam’s continuous supervision over several camera feeds, but Five is thankful for Janine’s stalwart dedication to protocol. The comfortable routine of standard procedure keeps her from dwelling too much about the possible outcomes for the dog, and a shower does wonders to calm the anxious knot in her stomach.

Over the course of the week, Five is put back into rotation. Her speed and agility is still somewhat hampered by a stiffness in the leg, but Five is grateful for the chance to be useful again. Normalcy, as far as that goes in the zombie apocalypse, has always done her good. She is frustrated by the fact that she is not kept in the loop about Evan’s progress with the dog. Several times a day she finds herself walking past the quarantine area for reasons she can’t quite pin down. A worn but sturdy padlock keeps the gate securely closed, and has effectively been keeping her at bay. Five assumes that the key for the quarantine area is not something one can just casually ask to borrow, even if it is acting as more of an exercise pen at the moment. The dog is there more often than not, which must mean that Dr. Myers tests must have swayed Janine to allow its stay for the time being. It seems to have come to recognise her, and sometimes trots up to the edge of the enclosure as she passes.

Whatever evaluation Evan is doing, she has seen none of it. Best guess is that his assessment is not finished. Five doesn’t ask, though she wants to. She can’t formulate an adequate reason as to why she should be privy to his evaluation other than simply wanting to, which leaving a bitter taste in her mouth whenever she catches herself feeling unjustly irritated with him.

Going to sleep is more difficult than usual, even though her reconnaissance mission into a red zone bordering Deadlock territory earlier had completely wiped her out. There is a repeating train of thought that she cannot quiet, which is that she has — surprisingly, given the circumstances — grown very attached to the dog. She’s forgiven people for doing worse things than mildly injure her, so it seems judicious. 

After staring aimlessly at the ceiling for perhaps thirty minutes, give or take, Five gives up on attempting to bore herself to sleep. Muscles protest as she pulls some relatively clean clothes on and ties her hair in a tight ponytail to accommodate for the headset she then wraps around her neck. The air is crisp and soothing, though not enough to cure her restlessness. It’s not surprising when she comes to a stop in front of the quarantine area, giving her surroundings a quick glance to verify that she is not being watched.

Sinking to her knees, Five tries to adjust her eyes to the darkness. The sky is grey, and what little moonlight does make its way through the thick cover of the clouds is not much to speak of. She is nothing if not patient, and gradually her eyes acclimates, and can more clearly make out the dark silhouette lying on the ground about a metre from her position. After nightfall, things are mostly quiet in Abel, overlooking the occasional moan from stray zombies shuffling outside the gates, so Five believes she can hear the animal snuffling.

What catches her attention is the look in the dog’s eyes, calmly fixed on her. It strongly triggers a memory of her childhood, before day zero.

When she was younger, her family had spent a day at the Natura Artis Magistra, one of the older and more prestigious zoos in Europe. Five had been at that transitional age where one is caught between marvelling at the wonder of exotic animals within reaching distance and questioning whether keeping wild animals in cages is ethical.

Her mother had stopped to have a drink of water, and Five had found herself right by the glass of a very small indoor enclosure. Both the floor and wall looked like cardboard, with stray gatherings of hay smattering the ground. Several large artificial branches were mounted in a haphazard manner for playing on, and a single enormous tire swing hung from the ceiling. In the corner of the enclosure sat a large orangutan on the floor, deathly still and looking right at Five.

She had stood there gawking, seemingly suspended in time for several minutes without moving a muscle while her parents chatted about what to do next.

Five was taught not to anthropomorphise animals even at a young age, for the simple reason that doing so would most likely be hurtful rather than helpful when trying to interact with them. But looking into the eyes of the orangutan — most likely older than she — sitting in a shabby enclosure the size of her bedroom, there was an undeniable humanity to those eyes. Overwhelming sadness, too. The melancholy was petrifying, and she couldn’t make herself move until her mother gently pulled her away to look at reptiles and amphibians.

That feeling from a long time ago is very much the same right now, looking at the rottweiler. An animal much too intelligent, much too self-aware, to be confined to such a small space without freedom or social contact.

Five makes a snap decision and moves quickly before she has too much time to psych herself out, sneaking into the partially completed building that has yet to be officially dubbed a functional workshop. While there is maybe no circumstances that would cause Five to violate the chain of command by breaking into her superior’s quarters and stealing valuable items for purely selfish reasons, snooping around for tools that she fully intends to return before the night is over is another matter.

As she is unwilling to turn on any lights, the search is slow, and Five grows increasingly frustrated feeling her way around the work benches without finding what she is looking for. After five solid minutes of fumbling around, she is just about ready to tip the closest workbench over out of sheer spite because of the mess whichever people working in here have left behind them. Five leans on the wooden table, trying to satisfy herself with the image of kicking the legs off of it and her fingers catch on the tool she’s been searching for.

The Scorpion Lock Pick Gun, outfitted with a needle that Five can’t properly identify in the dim lighting. It has obviously seen better days, and the silver colouring is dull. She makes careful sweeping motions on the table and quickly identifies the accompanying tension wrench, pocketing all of it before inconspicuously walking back to the quarantine area. Five makes a mental note to suggest to Janine that this kind of equipment really should be under lock and key during lights out as to avoid people doing exactly what she is about to do, well aware of the irony. She catches the eye of one watchman patrolling the wall, and nods shortly. They’ll give her leeway, as they’ve done before, when she’s slipped away from the Runners Barracks to run the nightmares away on the track.

Crouching down in front of the fence gate, Five examines the lock. She’s never been all that skilled at lock picking, at least under time constraints, hence the snap gun, but it is absolutely imperative that she doesn’t damage the lock mechanism. There’s no doubt it will be obvious that someone has tampered with the lock on closer inspection, but that is of lesser consequence to Five at the moment. Sticking the tension wrench in her mouth, she pulls at the padlock to get a closer look. She wouldn’t stake her reputation on it, but it looks like a standard pick tumbler lock to her. Under different circumstances she might have attempted to pick it using traditional methods, but she doesn’t have enough patience to spare at the moment.

Five adjusts the thumbwheel on the snap gun to start off with a relatively low impact, and checks to see that the needle is firmly in place before placing the tension wrench into the padlock. Testing the tension once, she almost winces at the low _click_ cutting through the relative silence. It’s most likely not enough to draw any attention to her if she works quickly, but it sounds thunderous to her ears. 

It takes her just over a minute and two adjustments to increase the tension of the snap, and she is focused to the point that she barely registers the dog has padded over to sit a few inches from the gate, observing her curiously.

When she turns the tension wrench to find the lock completely picked, she hesitates for a moment before opening the gate and slipping inside. While technically breaking and entering, Five has no desire to rebel further by taking the dog out of confinement into a populated area when she is in no position to control it properly. Either she would leave the gate unlocked while she hung around inside, or lock herself in. One option would grant her more personal assurance, while the other ensure the safety of the township.

Besides, she would do best to make sure that she hadn’t damaged the lock when picking it. It made more practical sense to lock herself in.

For a moment Five is worried that the dog will start howling or worse as she enters, but it stays silent and still. She sits down on the ground and leans back against the fence, a comfortable distance away to give the animal the option of socialising or not.

The sky is mostly covered with clouds, and Five searches for any gaps in the cover to see the stars to no avail. But the outline of the pale moon is still visible, though blurry. While Five lazily thinks of an old story from her childhood about Máni — the moon personified from the Edda, eternally chased by Hati the warg across the night sky — the rottweiler trots up to her and unceremoniously plops down between her outstretched legs, resting its large head on her ribcage. The weight of the animal forces the air out of her, and Five gulps down a few mouthfuls of air. It’s not surprising that the constant and substantial pressure is profoundly comforting, but she could do without added heat. This month has thus far been unseasonably temperate.

”I guess you were lonely, then,” Five murmurs after the dog seems to have settled, scratching cautiously behind its ear. 

It only makes sense that living beings should stick together, she reasons, stroking the somewhat matted fur softly. But it is still strange that the dog seems to be so accepting of her presence given the circumstances, even stranger still that it followed her here at all, and a thought strikes Five.

”Do I look like your owner?” she asks very softly, running a finger along the leather collar. ”You’re much too friendly with me.”

Five will probably never know much about the dog’s previous owner. The dead might walk, but seldom do they speak. Neither will the dog, but Five continues talking even so, keeping her voice just above a whisper.

”I hope you’re making progress with Runner Seven. You’ve got a bad rep as it is. No need to make it worse.” She purses her lips and gives the dog a once-over. ”Though I don’t know what he makes of you. Bonnie’s a more manageable breed, and if you can’t be put to use efficiently like she can you won’t be here for long. She looks more agreeable than you, as well. People probably think you look scary.”

Maggie’s mouth is slightly open and Five listens to it panting for a while, scanning her surroundings surreptitiously to make sure her trivial nonsense is not overheard.

”You’ll be useful or you won’t. Janine will argue against resources being allotted to companion animals of your… size and dietary requirements.”

There’s a small gap in the cloud cover, and the enclosure is bathed in delicate light for a few moments. Five threads her fingers through the dog’s fur, and tries to feel as indifferent as she sounds.

”It’s a shame we can’t be as…. human as we were, before.” Flattening her hands against the massive sides of the dog, she can feel a soft vibration beneath her hands, and when she listens closely she can hear low, rumbling sounds. She doesn’t quite know what to make of that. Cats purr, not only when they were happy, but also to soothe themselves from anxious emotions or physical pain. Five has no clue if that is even slightly applicable to dogs, but it looks content enough. ”You might have been better off back in Manend.”

”That’s one way of looking at it,” says a quiet voice into her ear, startling Five enough spike her heartbeat for a moment. Tilting her head, she spots the familiar outline of Sara crouching behind her on the other side of the fence, eyes twinkling with mirth. ”Time will tell.”

Five is thankful for the cover of darkness.

”Nice to know I’m not the only one out of bed at this hour. Though I’ll say that my first course of action would not be to lock myself in a small cage, that’s for sure, even if Abel is regrettably short on recreational activities for the time being,” Sara grins, giving her a cheeky wink.

Not quite sure what to say and feeling very much caught out, she continues stroking the dog’s fur slowly, averting her gaze. Sara seems to assess the situation, eyes darting around, and inevitably flicker toward the padlock hanging securely on the fence gate. The decision to lock it after entering seems to have been the better of the two as Sara makes no further comment, and the snap gun is entirely concealed in the pouch pocket of Five’s hoodie. Not even the bulky shape of it should be visible in this light. Satisfied that she’s not being watched, Sara settles on the ground.  

”What is keeping you up this evening?” she asks loftily, giving the appearance of disinterest that Five has learned to discount. ”I would have thought our foray into Deadlock territory and consequent mad dash to safety would have tuckered you out after being benched for almost half a month.” 

”Restless,” replies Five.

”Me too. I guess the thrill wears off quick these days,” Sara sighs and cracks her knuckles, giving her a wry look. ”Not to say running with you isn’t thrilling, compared to the company I’ve put up with in your absence.” 

”I heard.”

”That boy sure knows how to make an ass of himself.” There’s a shuffling sound as Sara turns to sit back against the fence, leaning her weight against Five, who suddenly feels lighter. ”I seriously considered leaving him out by the remains of Red Settlement after the cartwheeling stunt.”

”He’s… having a hard time.” Five defends weakly, knowing that personal issues are no excuse for idiocy.

”Better to work it out inside Abel than on my runs,” Sara says harshly, before softening her tone  a touch. ”It’s been over a month since the raiders. If Janine was going to talk to him, she would have by now. Simon’s more than capable to go talk to her on his own if there’s something he needs to get off his chest.”

It would be the sensible thing to do, but Five can’t find it in herself to fault Simon for avoiding heart-to-heart conversations given her penchant for doing the same.

The rumbling beneath her hands have stopped.

”Never took you for an animal person, Five,” Sara continues, leaning her head back against the fence. ”And I’ll admit to being curious about how you managed to get in there.”

The implication that Five stole the key is more hurtful than she’d like to admit. ”Picked the lock.”

Sara makes a contemplative noise. ”Good to know you have that set of skills in a pinch. Never did have the patience myself.”

Five’s pride keeps her from fully explaining her use of the snap gun, and makes no comment about Sara’s supposed inability to pick locks, which seems highly unlikely. There’s a comfortable lull in the conversation, and Sara pushes off the ground to crouch behind her, regarding the dog thoughtfully.

”My boys used to beg my husband and I for a dog, you know. Every Christmas they’d start up, like clockwork, making lists with the supposed pros about having one and drawing up contracts about how they’d take care of it and take it for walks and those sort of things. Never did get them one, though. Felt like we wouldn’t have the time for it.” She tilts her head and leans closer, gripping the fence. ”Looking back, maybe we should have made time.”

Before Five can think of anything to say, Maggie starts growling, lifting its head to turn to Sara. Chuckling, she lets go of the fence and puts her hands up in a placating manner, grinning. ”Loyal to a fault, man’s best friend is. Seems to have taken a liking to you, Five. Could be quite useful, I suppose.”

Unsure of how to handle the situation, Five flattens her hands on the ground on either side of her legs and tries not to jostle the animal too much as she turns her upper body towards Sara. ”Sorry.”

”Nothing to be sorry about, honey. Though I will tell you Evan’s attempts have not been very successful, as far as I can tell, so you might want to get in on that action if you want it around.”

Five bites her lip, feeling torn. Wanting to keep it around and being able to are two different things. She has little experience training dogs, hasn’t even cared for one longer than the occasional weekend dog-sitting for friends.

The dog gets up and stares contemptuously at Sara, seemingly having had enough of her presence, growling growing louder.

”I guess I’ll be off then. Don’t want to cause a ruckus in the middle of the night. I still have things to do.” Sara claps her hands together, and gets to her feet. ”Be seeing you, Five.”

Watching her go out of the corner of her eye, Five can’t help but feel that she has failed some sort of test, but her worry is forgotten as Maggie sits down between her legs once more, wiggling into a comfortable position.

Only when she can see the first light of dawn does she return to the Runner’s Barracks and her quarters.

Five continues sneaking around at night to slip into the dog pen, as she has taken to calling it lately, feeling peaceful in its company. She justifies her actions as compassionate, keeping the animal company after long stretches of confinement. As long as she is still fresh for missions, it’s not actually hurting anyone. The deception of it all does taste quite bitter, but she puts those feelings away and saves them for another time. It takes less than a week for the universe to punish Five for her impulsive behaviour. Every good thing comes at a price.

The punishment in question was a perfect example of the phrase ’good from far, but far from good’ as her morning started more pleasantly than she had come to expect of mornings in the aftermath of a zombie apocalypse. As she walks through the township headed for the mess hall, Evan turns up by her side, offering a short greeting. They walk in silence side by side, as Five doesn’t know what to say, and Evan is not the most talkative fellow in the mornings before a cup of whatever is being passed off as coffee these days. But she does match his pace, having noticed the leash in his hands and assuming he is on his way to pick up the dog for another evaluation.

When Five spots Maggie behind the fence, a warm feeling spreads through her chest. She clearly recognises Five, moving from lounging about on the ground to sitting patiently in front of the locked gate. Her mouth is slightly open and Five can see a little of the tongue peeking out, giving Maggie a rather goofy look. The dog almost looks expectant. For a moment, Five is concerned that the dog’s friendly demeanour might tip Evan off to her nightly escapades, but discounts the thought.

She hangs back for a moment as Evan unlocks the gate, and clips the leash on Maggie’s collar, who seems unperturbed by both his actions and presence. Five is relieved to see that she seems perfectly content to be handled by Evan, and she’s almost ready to allow herself feeling a small spark of hope.

It’s a distant fantasy, Five knows, living on a farm with her most favourite people, working the land with her own two hands, growing vegetables and flowers, a dog leaping and bounding through the fields, the demands and chaos of the urban lifestyle completely forgotten. Idyllic, and impossible, not only because of the living dead roaming the countryside. But Five finds it nice to enjoy those moments when such a future is close enough to even imagine.  Evan gives her a nod and a wave, turning to walk away.

The fantasy is shattered and morphed into a nightmare in milliseconds.

Something wraps tightly around her torso and lifts her completely off the ground, sucking the air out of her lungs. The warm breath on her neck gives her goosebumps, and it’s more than enough to clue her in on what’s happening.

”Good morning Five!” Simon almost shouts directly into her ear, grinning, making Five wince. As he continues, giving her a rather hard squeeze, he lowers his voice to a whisper dripping with venom. ”To be in the presence of Abel’s most favoured runner, what a way to start the day for old Simon.”

Registered in the back of her mind is movement in the corner of her eye, and an unsettling noise. 

There is a limit to how much leeway she will give to a person at any given time, no matter how sympathetic she is to Simon’s current emotional turmoil. The feeling of being overpowered is not helping her mood either. Irritated but effectively restrained, she looks down at their legs to take aim and kicks towards his shin. Her heel makes contact hard, causing Simon to groan but not let go completely, forcing a chuckle.

”Is that any way to treat —”

Maggie’s loud barking cuts through what Five supposes would be another sharp comment from Simon and she’s dropped down on the ground, and her stomach falls along with it as she assesses the situation.

Evan has his feet dug firmly into the ground, using the weight of his entire body to keep his position with the leash wrapped and firmly secured in both hands. Maggie has bolted forward, held back by the collar balancing on her hind legs, teeth bared and snarling. The muscles in Evan’s arms are bulging with the effort to remain in place without tipping over, and Maggie continues to pull forward. Gone is the soft look that Five could see in the Maggie’s eyes during her nightly visits. She doesn’t look like a companion animal.

She looks absolutely terrifying.

Five thoughts go a mile a minute, as they tend to do in high stress situation, but at the forefront of her mind is a small revelation followed by a dispirited insight. Firstly, the indisputable fear she feels for her own safety does not completely eclipse her belief in Maggie’s gentle nature. Secondly, there is no doubt that Evan will disagree. 

She inches closer, wondering if it was the violence between herself and Simon that set the dog off, or his rather dominant behaviour, but is forced to stop when Maggie shows no signs of calming down. As Simon stumbles a little behind her, Five looks from the enraged canine to Evan, catching his gaze.

The thunderous look on his face says it all. 

 

* * *

  

Sam is being fidgety.

It’s difficult to explain exactly how Five knows this, given that she is just over a kilometer away, she can barely hear him over a particularly rough connection, and he isn’t saying much, but Five knows even so.

She won’t ask why right now, because if it was pertinent to her run, Five believes he would be more forthcoming. One of his more admirable qualities is his complete ineptitude regarding any form of deception, be it lying or lying by omission. Tempting as it is to just demand he spit whatever he is clearly distracted by out, Five keeps her tongue and continues her steady pace.

Her pack is light, filled only with correspondence from New Canton, as Janine has recently started insisting on keeping official — and classified, Five extrapolates — exchanges between the two settlements via courier rather than electronic transmissions. For fear of espionage, probably. Five’s personal opinion is that any hostile party eager to get their hands on any exchange between Abel and New Canton capable of decrypting their coded frequencies would presumably also be able to launch a ground assault efficient enough to capture a single runner in the field, but she keeps this to herself. Caution should be commended at every turn in these times, and Five recognises that she might not be seeing the big picture enough to make a judgement. Besides, Five trusts Janine to have contingency plans for any and all situations.

” _A few shamblers to your ten o’clock by the tree line, but if you keep this pace you should be in range of our snipers if they decide to follow you._ ” Sam says distractedly, and the intermittent static forces Five to listen carefully. ” _Um, I… Janine’s in the hospital with Maxine, but she’ll be meeting you at the gates, and that’s it for your schedule today, so yeah…_ ”

Five taps the mic in affirmation and quickens her pace, eager to get back. Sam acting so squirrelly, for a lack of a better word, is somewhat frustrating, and she can’t read him as well without actually standing face to face. His emotions are always on his sleeve, readily available for any watchful person to analyse.

Sam switches over to directing some other runners north of Abel on a fuel run, and Five tunes the chatter out until she can hear the familiar call for the gates to raise and the welcoming shower of gunfire. Apparently the shamblers did take an interest in her.

As she pulls the pack off her shoulders and puts it on the ground, Janine appears from seemingly nowhere and parks herself in front of Five, looking expectant. The brusque manner is familiar, and Five drops to her knees to dig out the fat folders from her pack and hand them over without a word.

”Thank you, Runner Five. Dr. Myers is expecting you,” she says shortly, sticks the folders under her arm and stalks off towards the farmhouse.

” _She’s in a good mood,_ ” Sam says nonchalantly.

Five makes a face, considers reprimanding him for the barbed comment and decides not to, tapping twice and turns her headset off. He never harbours any ill will.

Dr. Myers makes quick work of the bite check, only pausing in her research to quickly peer down her shirt and glance down her thighs for any rips the fabric before ushering her out of the hospital.

Standing in the blistering sun, Five deliberates between having her shower at once or following protocol by returning her headset to the comms shack. It would be an easy choice, but the unseasonably hot weather makes a cool shower seem all the more inviting. She turns on the spot and marches towards the comms shack before she can be tempted and slips through the open door, hanging her headset and headcam on the designated empty hook to her right. The heat in the tiny shack is oppressive, and the air is stale and still despite the open door.

Sam is focused on his screens, and Five drags a chair from the opposite wall to announce her presence, sitting down. To his credit, he barely flinches, and slides one of the large earpads to the side.

”Hi, Five. That was quick. I… No, that’s not — Five’s here in the comms shack. You’re both looking fine, no incomers, nothing in your path for at least a few kilometres if you stay out of the wooded area to your southeast.” he starts, smiling, before pressing a small button to turn his side of the transmission off. ”Hi.”

”Hello.”

There’s a beat, and Sam breaks eye contact for a short moment. Which Five interprets as Sam trying to keep something to himself, which in turn makes her very intent on knowing that very thing. She only has to decide whether to be subtle or direct in her approach.

”What’s up?” she asks, turning away slightly to examine the screen, giving Sam some room to formulate himself. Five thinks it’s Owen and Kytan running through a nearby field, though the footage is very grainy and difficult to make out. Either Sam’s got a very keen eye or her vision has degraded since the loss of her glasses. And the apocalypse.

”Nothing much, they’re doing great and heading for that old mill a few kilometres away, we’re thinking that there might be some fuel stashed away for the broken farming equipment, so. Yeah. Long shot. What’s up with you?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she can tell that Sam is looking a touch too intently at the screens.

”Nothing you don’t already know.”

”I guess, yeah…

Five lets the silence stretch out, leans back in her chair with purposeful nonchalance.

It’s a funny thing, to know someone so intimately that you can almost see the chain of events before they unfold. For short while, Sam continues to look closely at the screens. Then his gaze starts flickering around the room, all the while trying not to move or fidget. Following is an exaggerated stretch and wiggling of his fingers, a telling motion that he is trying to redirect nervous energy. The instinctive reach to card his right hand through his hair is stopped halfway up to his head and framed with a forced cough. He readjusts his headphones several times, each movement putting them back in the exact position they were before he moved it.

Leaning forward, Five fiddles with the array of papers strewn over Sam’s desk. There are some completed mission logs, a worn spiral notebook with what appears to be doodles of some kind of Demon and Darkness designs, a tourist postcard featuring the London Eye with gaudy lettering, several post-it notes with various messages that Five is polite enough not to focus on and a torn pamphlet from the Chinese Cultural Centre.

As she admires the particularly interesting design of what Five guesses is a half-orc ranger, Sam has shifted his focus to pressing buttons on his console that appear to do nothing but flicker one of his screens between two long-range cameras back and forth.

Crossing one leg over the other, Five leans back against the uneven back of her chair with the spiral notebook in her hand, slowly flipping through the pages and finding most of them empty.

”Ah, yeah, that,” Sam says, gaze dropping once to the notebook before making eye contact. ”I just, you know, we haven’t played in a while, obviously, there’s — there’s a lot going on, and I can’t really draw but it’s something to do, and it’s… yeah.”

Once again he turns his attention to his hands, moving things around on the desk with one while fiddling with a pencil in the other.

Five pounces on the opportunity. ”Is there a lot going on?”

It’s almost like watching a deer in headlights, and if she had more patience, Five would feel at least a little bad about her obvious coercion. But she’s done for the day, sweaty and more than a little grimy, and she wants a relaxing, lukewarm shower. And the relaxing part will be difficult to achieve for Five until whatever Sam has kicking around in his head is laid out in the open and her curiosity — or need for control, depending on how real one wants to get — is put to rest. 

”No, I, nothing that I — um,” Sam grimaces and drops the act, deflating a little as he relaxes in his chair. ”It’s nothing bad, really, just… Didn’t really know if I was the one supposed to tell you, is all.”

She tilts her head, and Sam opens his mouth several times before deciding how to start. ”I thought maybe Evan would tell you, he said he’d try to find you later today, but I relayed the information to Janine last night. We heard back from New Canton. They’ve found someone for Maggie. To take her in, I mean. Properly.”

Blinking, Five is a little surprised at how conflicted that makes her feel.

It should be more of a relief, really. Since the incident a week prior, Five had been told in no uncertain terms by Evan that the rottweiler presented too much of a problem to be comfortably kept in Abel. While Five would have liked to argue, she couldn’t work her way around the fact that it was a very large and strong dog apparently capable of great aggression, no matter how innocent the incident that might have prompted it. Janine had somewhat awkwardly suggested that they take to Rofflenet to find it another permanent owner rather than putting it down, despite her obvious annoyance at the continued resources required to house their canine guest until such a time. Five accepted the olive branch for what it was, but distanced herself from the process and allowed Evan to spearhead the search. She had only broken into the enclosure once since then, and each time she walked by the feeling of undefined guilt grew stronger in her gut.  

The reality had always been that she wouldn’t have been able to keep it in the township, regardless of how easy it had been for Five to become disillusioned about the possibilities.

Five carefully puts the notepad back on the desk and rubs at her arms.

”They’ll send someone over tomorrow. Janine is efficient,” Sam pauses, hesitantly turning to bump their shoulders together lightly. ”He seemed like a nice guy. A farmer, slightly older fellow. Talked about how he missed his dogs from before. Used to live on a his own land with his wife and like, four dogs, I think? And the whole barnyard shebang, with cows and chickens and all that.”

”Okay.”

”It… went faster than I thought, too. Kinda unlikely that we’d find someone rushing to adopt a rottweiler given the circumstances, but, man’s best friend and all.”

Keeping her tongue, Five shifts to lean almost imperceptibly against Sam’s shoulder.

It’s good and bad, like most things.

”I… I’m sorry,” he says simply, folding his hands in his lap. ”I kind of got the feeling that you… got attached. I’m sorry.”

A tinny voice comes through Sam’s headphones loud enough that even Five can hear bits and pieces, startling him enough to flail a bit before patching himself into the transmission frequency. 

”Yeah, nah, it — it’s fine, guys, and even if you have to detour, which I really don’t think you have to, you’ll still be back with plenty of time to go before sundown. Yea — no, I know, Runner Six, but this kind of is a practice run. Owen, come on. Going completely off the rails isn’t really… Okay, I’m sorry, too soon, in bad taste, didn’t actually mean it like that. But yeah, steady pace, no need for — don’t encourage him, Eleven, seriously.” Sam huffs and makes an exasperated gesture with his hands towards the screens. ”Yes, I mean seriously. Fine, then I’m rerouting you. Great. See that… uh, kind of looks like half a barn, maybe, on your three o’clock on the hill? Circle widely on the east side, there’s a pack of what looks like maybe a dozen zoms behind it. It’ll barely add to your runtime, I’ve got cams that way too, fair compromise. Alright, great, I’ll be checking ahead.”

The sincerity of the moment has been effectively undercut, which Five is thankful for.

She tries to pick apart what she is feeling at the news as Sam continues directing the runners for another minute, wanting to adequately recognise his effort to sympathise with her, even though she’s not making that task an easy one.

Five knows she is guarded with her emotions, which has resulted in a poor ability to both analyse and express them sincerely, or at all. However, this method has proven to be efficient for a runner intent on continued survival in the zombie apocalypse. It is no coincidence that the individuals in Abel Five has come to admire the most for their enduring strength all perfectly encapsulate the concept of emotional pragmatism.

In the field, Five is grateful for this dulled response to the things happening around her, because in general most things happening these days are less than joyful. She has no doubt she’ll become jaded in time, and that it will prolong her life. To be affected by it would be the same as being destroyed by it.

At the same time, to feel for things outside one’s own survival and convenience is the core of humanity. Longevity would mean nothing if there was nothing to care about either having or losing.

”I think…” Five pauses, once again not finding the proper words to express what she actually wants to say. ”I think I’m happy it still makes me sad.”

Sam looks a little unsure, and takes his time responding. ”I...I don’t know if I get you, Five.”

”I think you get me fine,” she responds firmly, avoiding his gaze as she reaches out and gives his shoulder a quick squeeze.

With that, she nods shortly to herself and walks out of the comms shack. She’ll be happier taking whatever time is left to enjoy what she has right now, even if she won’t have it forever. 

Five isn’t certain, but she thinks Sam is watching her leave.

 

  


End file.
